When there had been no real cause for grief
by paintingtheroseinred
Summary: Demelza left Ross after his affair. Years later, now divorced, the two parents come together to care for their sick son, unearthing memories from their dead marriage and feelings they have spent too long trying to forget. Demelza/Ross Divorced Modern AU
1. Endless noise, and sickening heat

She buzzed him twice before he answered, her heart hammering in her throat.

"Hello?" he answered over the speaker.

"Judas, Ross! It's me," she said slightly out of breath.

"Oh yes, I'm sorry." He sounded distracted. "I'll let you in."

Demelza heard the familiar click of the door and hurried inside. Taking the stairs two at a time in her stiletto. She hadn't taken the time to change her shoes. As soon as she had received her ex-husband's text, she had run to her car with barely a word to Hugh.

 _Jeremy has a fever_

That's all the text had said, but it had been enough to freeze all the blood in her veins.

Ross was waiting by the door when she reached his floor.

"How is he?" She didn't waste time with formalities.

"He's alright. He's in his bed. I have been monitoring him." He ran his hand through his wild mane, his eyes a bit too wide, the ghost of another child floating in his mind, as Demelza pushed her way inside. "It is only 38 degrees, but even so I thought I should keep you informed."

She made her way to her son's bedroom. Ross' home hadn't changed much since he moved there four years after his split with Elizabeth. It still looked as empty and drab as ever. The walls were the same off-white as the day he came in and his furniture was practical and expensive, but nothing else. There were no colors, no pillows or throw blankets, no art on the walls, as if no one really lived there. Demelza had always found the place depressing. Had he secretly hated her decorating when they were married? Was this more to his taste?

As she approached Jeremy's room, she noticed Valentine running up and down the corridor, a toy airplane in his hands.

"Vroom vroom!" the toddler was screaming his lungs out.

"Valentine's here?" she asked.

"Elizabeth and George are away for the weekend." Ross swallowed and looked at the floor as if he expected some kind of reproach from her, but she said nothing. That was all in the past.

Demelza opened the door to Jeremy's room to find her son huddled in a ball in his bed, his hair damped around his face, his nose a little too red. His eyes were closed, but he was not sleeping. The television in his room was opened to Peter Rabbit's latest adventures. She sat on the mattress and put her hand to his forehead. It was too warm and sweaty, but not burning hot.

"Jeremy, how are you feeling, my lover?"

"Mama!" Jeremy whined as he opened his eyes and looked at her, his eyes were slightly red. "I'm too hot."

"I know." She rubbed his back and the boy coughed. "It's a nasty cold you've got."

Jeremy swallowed a whimper.

"But the good news is you won't be going to school on Monday, that's for sure and certain."

"Really?" He seemed to brighten at that.

"You're staying with your papa and watching the tele all day instead. Only because you're ill. You can take Monday off?" She turned to Ross who was watching them from the foot of the bed.

"Yes, of course." He was smiling. "We'll watch as much tele as you want."

Jeremy nodded and sniffled before Demelza took out a tissue from her purse and held it to his nose.

"Blow," she ordered just as Valentine barged into the room, his airplane still in his hands.

"Vroom vroom!"

The child barely had time to cross the threshold before Ross caught him in his grip, his tone firm as he said, "Valentine, I told you to stay out!"

For a second, the boy went quiet in his father's arms. His eyes round and wide, he just stared at Ross. Then his lower lip started to wobble, his eyes filled with tears, and an ears piercing scream came out of his tiny little mouth. His face was blotched red in a matter of seconds. Ross only continued to hold him, looking lost as to what to do as Valentine contorted his body around in abject despair.

"It's alright V," Jeremy said, and his little brother's trashing stopped. "Papa doesn't mean to be mad. He just don't want you to get sick like me."

Valentine's only answer was to offer his airplane with a little sniffle of his own, his hand sticky with a mix of tears and saliva. "For you."

Demelza took it from him and handed it to her son. "Thank you, Valentine. That's very kind of you to share your toys with Jeremy. Now, why don't you go play in the living room with your papa?"

"I want to play with Jeje." Ross seeming to detect another tantrum coming, wisely chose to step outside the bedroom, promising the boy sweets to keep him quiet. Demelza only hoped he did not use these kind of tactics with Jeremy.

She stayed with her son a little bit longer and by the time she came out of the bedroom, Valentine seemed to have moved on to playing with an electric piano while Ross watched him from the kitchenette. Or he might have been trying to make music himself, banging pots and frying pans as he was.

"Chicken noodle soup is good for colds," he said without looking at her. "I remember it was your remedy for it. I believe I have a can of it somewhere if I can only get my hands on it."

For the first time, Demelza noticed his appearance. His curls were untidy, flying around him as he opened cupboards and drawers. He was wearing jeans and a grey shirt that looked rumpled and slept in. He probably hadn't showered today or even yesterday.

"There!" Ross exclaimed, handing her what seemed to be an off-brand can of soup whose sodium content she was sure to disapprove of. "I knew I had one here."

Demelza simply shook her head. "You're not feeding him that."

His face fell, and he gave her his familiar scowl.

"You're taking a shower," she continued. "And then you're going grocery shopping, so I can cook all of you a proper supper."

"Absolutely not. I can't ask that of you. It is my turn to watch him, Demelza. It is your day off and…" He stopped there and seemed to take in her stiletto shoes, her silky green dress, and pretty chignon. He swallowed. "I'm sorry. I didn't realise you had a…As I said, I can handle this myself. You should…"

"He's my son," she interrupted. The last thing she wanted was to discuss her date with her ex-husband. "You're not asking me to do anything, Ross. I'm telling you. Now, off you go in that shower of yours."

Ross sighed and looked down at himself. "I suppose I should. I expect I must smell rather ripe." He chuckled, but it fell flat.

"I didn't say anything." She meant it as a joke to put him at ease, but it came out coy even flirtatious. She blamed it on the stress of the night's events. Ross thankfully seemed oblivious as usual. She cleared her throat. "I'll make you a list."

Ross headed for the bathroom and Demelza wrote down the list of ingredients she would need when she noticed that the apartment had been quiet for some time. She looked up from her writing to see Valentine a colour marker in his hand, adding a pretty shade of blue to the walls of Ross' place. It seemed they both found it too drab.

"Judas, Valentine!" she called. The boy looked at her questioningly. "Walls are not for drawing."

"I like balloons," was the child's answer.

"I like balloons too." She sighed.

"Mama got me balloons on my birthday." Demelza bristled at the mention of Elizabeth. She wondered when it would stop hurting. You would think five years would be enough time to move on.

"That's nice." Demelza looked around the living room for some paper, finally finding a pile of used ones in the rubbish bin. "You can draw on this paper, but not on the walls."

"No!"

"You can draw on the paper or not at all," Demelza said, used to negotiating with toddlers. Valentine stared at her, seeming to gauge her before throwing the marker on the floor and going back to the electric piano in the middle of the room.

At that moment, Ross came out of Jeremy's bedroom, looking as frayed as he did before, but slightly cleaner.

"His fever is the same," he told her worriedly. Demelza nodded. Memories of Julia hung between them. Her burning skin, the cold water in the tub, the sterile smell of the hospital, her cries.

"He just has a cold. It'll come down," she answered with more assurance than she felt.

"What is this?" he asked pointing at the wall behind her.

"Someone was feeling artistic." She gave a pointed look in Valentine's direction, but the boy took no notice of them, lost in his music.

"I see," Ross said. "I suppose it brightens up the place. I need all the help I can get with that."

"I thought you liked the place like this. Modern."

"Cold, you mean?" He shook his head. "No, but I never had the eye for it. That was always more your domain than mine."

"Oh." There was an awkward pause after that.

"You have the list for me," Ross asked breaking the silence.

"Oh yes." She got the list from the kitchen counter and handed to him.

"Then I will be off." He put on his dark coat, stuffing the list in his pockets. She had always loved his coat. The way it made him look like the hero in one of those BBC dramas. It used to make her heart flutter. She remembered being sixteen and wrapping herself in it, pretending.

She heard the door click behind him. Jeremy coughed, and Valentine made shooting noises with his fingers. She really shouldn't be having these kind of thoughts anymore.

Her mobile beeped. A message from Hugh. She didn't answer.


	2. To preserve ornament from dirt

_Three months earlier_

It started out with a few notes. Sometimes he'd write them on a napkin, sometimes on his bill, sometimes on a cupholder. But he'd always leave them in places where she would be sure to find them.

"Looks like Romeo is here," Rosina whispered to her as she cut a generous piece of Victoria sponge for the next customer. A whiff of powder sugar and raspberry preserve reached Demelza's nose.

She didn't look up from the till, busy calculating change. He always came on Sundays.

Last time, it had been Yeast's _He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven_. She'd found it under the counter at the end of her shift. Before that it had been Pushkin's _To the Beauty_. He had put that one with the sugar packs.

She'd met him at one of Caroline's parties, the endeavor in extravagance and excess her friend insisted she must absolutely attend.

" _You must, Demelza. You simply must. I won't hear another word. You're a mother, not a catholic nun."_

So, with Jeremy at his father's for the week, she had put on a too short blue dress that Caroline had picked out for her, and she had gone.

Caroline had hired an orchestra to play for them and an assemblage of circus performers to divert them. The party had been noisy. The air had smelt of perspiration. But Demelza hadn't paid much attention to anything except for Hugh.

His blond hair had shown like a halo under the light of the chandeliers, and he'd been wearing a blue cashmere shirt that matched her dress. She'd thought it was a sign.

He had taken a liking to her almost immediately, and more surprisingly, so had she for him. They had talked about music. They both loved old folk songs, but they also enjoyed _Iron and Wine_. She'd confessed that her son had added many Disney songs to her repertoire. He hadn't even flinched at the mention of Jeremy. She'd promise to sing for him one day, and he'd shared some of his favourite poems with her, agreeing to let her read one of his own creation.

It was the first time she had truly enjoyed a man's company since her divorce. The thought made her feel irrationally guilty.

"My usual if you please." Demelza looked up to see Hugh smiling at her in that shyly way of his. He was wearing a dark grey coat, his neck bundled in a large red scarf. His hair was slightly damped by the rain outside.

"One cuppa tea and a fresh scone coming right up!" Demelza busied herself filling a Tea-for-One teapot. The steam from the boiling water filled the air. "You know the shop next door has actual homemade scones, much better than what we have."

"Yes, but their staff isn't nearly as delightful or as pretty." He leaned over the counter, his eyes so very gentle as he gazed at her. She blushed like she used to when she was a schoolgirl and Ross said something remotely nice to her.

"I make better scones than these," she said without looking at him.

"You will have to prove it to me one of these days then."

"I just might." She looked up at him then, tilting her head trying to look coy. She couldn't stop herself from smiling.

"Hey! You mind?" An angry customer with an impressive moustache said behind Hugh. "Some of us would like to place our order before the next century."

"Be right with you, sir," she answered. Hugh was grinning widely at her now. "It'll be 6.95."

"Keep the change," he said before handing her a few bills.

She went to put them away when she noticed that one did not feel like the others. A note. Another poem. She felt butterflies in her stomach as she unfolded the piece of paper. No one had ever done anything like that for her before. Her breath caught when she noticed that something was not quite the same about this note. This one ended with a question. Just one word.

Dinner?

She looked toward the window where he usually sat. He was staring at her, twisting the scarf in his hands. On the radio, _Last Christmas_ was playing. Demelza felt her heart lurk in her chest and blood rush to her cheeks. She nodded and he gave her another one of his boyish smiles. Her inside melted.

"Afternoon tea for two, and can I pay for my purchases here?" The man with the large moustache interrupted the scene.

"Yes, sir, we can ring those up for you," she replied. Her gut twisted inside her stomach as she scanned the tin box of holidays biscuits.

She hadn't been on a date since Malcolm more than four years ago. Her disastrous attempt at proving something to Ross.

She filled a large teapot and took out the sandwiches. Hugh was writing something in his old fashion notebook, his long fingers tracing the words on the page. For a moment, she was struck by how unlike Ross he was.

Demelza chased the thought away. Ross had nothing to do with this. She focused on her work.

The next hour was filled with no thoughts of men or romance, as she prepared teapots and peppermint lattes for the afternoon crowd. She did not have time to think of anything at all which was how she liked it.

An angry woman came to return a faulty lavender soap gift basket, refusing to go to customer services on the ground floor. Her thin pinched face had gone red as she threw insults involving Demelza's imaginary sexual past. Those were the days when Demelza wished she could be working in a real kitchen, away from the customers.

"Can I see it?" Rosina asked once Hugh had left. The girl had taken a liking to him. Demelza would have been worried if it was not for the fact that Rosina took a fancy to every pretty face that walked in the door.

"Yes, of course." Demelza handed her Hugh's note and took out the broom. It would be closing time soon.

"Oh! Maya Angelou, very nice," Rosina said with a shake of her blond head. "And suddenly we see that love costs all we are and will ever be. Yet it is only love which sets us free." She sighed and brought the paper to her bosom. "You're so lucky. Sam never gives me any poetry."

Demelza was not surprised to hear that. "It's my brother you're talking about," she reminded Rosina, squashing her need to defend him further.

"Well, he did text me bits from the Song of Song for our anniversary, so I guess that should count." Rosina gave an affirmative nod as if to put her at ease. She really was sweet and such a step up from Emma and the constant on-and-off drama of that relationship. "Oh! He finally asked you to dinner!"

"Yes." Demelza did not elaborate.

"Are you going?"

"Yes."

At this Rosina actually squealed. "Where do you think he's taking you?"

"I don't rightly know." Demelza did not look at her. Someone had spilled nutmeg on the floor. She tried to sweep it away.

"Well, wherever it is, it'll be better than here. I just know, it'll be romantic," Rosina went on.

Someone had walked with their dirty sodden boots on the spilled nutmeg. She'd need the mop.

"You'll tell me all about it. Promise, Demelza?"

"Yes, of course."

It was 4:51, almost time to pick up Jeremy from Ross'.

"What do you think you're going to wear?"

"I'm not sure." Demelza picked up the mop from the broom closet.

"You should wear the purple dress you had on at Drake's graduation. You looked smashing in it."

Demelza nodded more to end the conversation than anything else. Her gut continued to churn in her stomach. Her first date in four years. Her first date really. Ross hadn't exactly courted her before he got her pregnant, and he hadn't after either. Malcolm didn't count.

"Hey, I can take care of putting the food away, and I can clean up behind the counter, but do you think you could close up for me?" she asked Rosina. "I have to meet Ross in half an hour."

"Yeah, of course," the girl answered. "And you can tell my nephew that his aunt Rosina got him a Christmas present."

"You shouldn't have." Demelza shook her head secretly pleased.

"He deserves it on account of being such an angel."

Demelza did not argue with that.

By the time she reached Ross' apartment building it had stopped raining. People on the radio were discussing the likelihood of a white Christmas. Jeremy would be ecstatic.

She rang for 203, rubbing her arms for warmth. She needed a warmer coat.

"Hello?" Ross' voice boomed over the speaker.

"Hi, I'm downstairs." Her breath came out in a white cloud.

"I'll let you in."

She heard Jeremy's excited laughter behind him before the speaker disconnected and the door clicked open. The apartment building was nice and cozy, and blood returned painfully to her limbs as she made her way to his floor.

"Mama!" Jeremy greeted her. She hadn't stepped one foot inside before her son rushed to hug her.

"Hi," was Ross' more composed greeting.

"Hi," she returned, holding her little boy close. "Everything went well?"

"Yes, actually…"Ross started to say.

"You have to come see, mama," Jeremy interrupted. "Papa and I made decorations with popcorns and mine is the nicest."

Her son dragged her inside by the hand, almost running to the living room.

"Did you really?" she asked with as much enthusiasm as she could muster.

"Yes! Even papa said it was. And we put candy canes that taste good on the tree too. And then, I showed papa how to make snowflakes with paper like you showed me. And then, papa let me put Grandma Grace's angel at the top."

"It sounds like you boys had a busy day," she said, walking into the living room to find a gigantic Christmas tree that looked as if it had been decorated by an overeager six-year-old. There were tinsels spread out everywhere, even on the floor, strings of popcorns running on one side more than the other, and far more ornaments on the lower side of the tree than upward.

Jeremy turned to her, staring at her expectantly, and she was a bit surprise to notice Ross doing the same.

"Wow! What a nice tree you've made! I think that might be the most beautiful one I have ever seen," she exclaimed. Jeremy clapped his hands and gave a little jump and a wiggle at that, his face breaking into a grin. She looked up to find Ross sporting an identical expression. They looked so much alike at that very moment that she felt her heart give a painful squeeze.

"And look mama," Jeremy said, capturing her attention once again. He pointed at an ornament at the center of the tree, what looked to be a papier-mâché snowman. Demelza went down on her knees to take a better look at it. "I made that at school."

"All by yourself?"

"Yes."

"Mrs. Alcott even said she wished she could have taken it home herself," Ross added, looking down at his son with a fond smile. "Didn't she, Jeremy?"

"She did, but I didn't let her." Jeremy giggled.

Demelza couldn't resist, she put her arms around Jeremy and hugged him to her. "My son's an artist."

"I'm good at building things," Jeremy corrected her.

"I'm that proud, Jeremy." Her son blushed and wiggled out of her arms.

"I made one for you too," he said looking at her as if he was trying to assuage her of some fear. His expression was so sincere, she had to rub his little cheek. There was one Poldark for whom she would never be second best.

"We kept it safe for you in the kitchen," Ross informed her.

"You did?" she said and got up. "Well, I have to see it, don't I?"

Ross and Jeremy walked over to the kitchenette. Ross opened a plates cupboard too high for Jeremy to reach and carefully handed him the ornament.

The child rushed over to her side. "Look! She has blue eyes and red hair like yours."

Demelza looked at the snowwomen who indeed shared a passing resemblance to herself if she was built out of round, white papier-mâché.

"Thank you, Jeremy. This is beautiful." She made a show of her appreciation. "You know what? We'll have to put it at the top of the tree, next to the star, so that Prudie and uncle Sam and Drake can see it on Christmas."

Jeremy rewarded her with a wide smile, the lights on the tree illuminating his face making him look almost angelic. She really was lucky to have such a wonderful son.

She put the snowwomen ornament in her coat pocket.

"Can papa come too?" Jeremy asked.

The question like a punch to the gut robbed her of air. It took her a moment to recover.

The old-timey clock in the corridor ticked. Outside, a car honked.

She couldn't tell him the whole truth. There was no way to say, "Last time we celebrated Christmas with your father, he spent the whole night on his computer complaining about the economy and wishing to be with another family." No way to say, "Your papa didn't want us."

Ross hunched his shoulders and stuffed his hands in his black trousers' pockets. Jeremy stared at her, waiting for her answer. She swallowed, struggling to find the right words.

Finally, she caressed her son's brow and went with a half-truth. "You know papa can't come. He's spending Christmas at aunt Verity's, but you'll see him on New Year's Eve. Won't that be nice?"

"Aunt Verity can come to Christmas too," Jeremy pointed out.

"No, she can't because her husband and all of his children will be there too, and that's just too many people to fit at Nampara."

"He should be with us then," Jeremy whined, stomping his foot. "If her children get their papa for Christmas, I should too. And papa can help us decorate the tree."

"Jeremy!" she warned.

"He's very good at it." Jeremy turned to his father who looked incredibly small in that moment, smaller than Demelza would have thought possible. "You can help us? Right, papa? Tell her."

"I think you should listen to your mother," Ross answered, his voice dejected and quiet.

She remembered he had sounded just the same the day he had signed the divorce papers. He hadn't looked at her, his eyes fixed on their signatures. His hand had fisted around the pen like he wanted to strangle it, but his voice had come out sounding just as small and hopeless as it did now.

" _So that's it? After everything, we just…That's all, Demelza?"_

"That's not fair!" Jeremy's protests brought her back to the present.

"That's enough, Jeremy!" she warned him one last time.

The little boy went quiet, looking down at the floor, pouting. Demelza's heart broke for him. None of this was his fault. He didn't ask for his father to love another woman. He should be able to spend Christmas with both of his parents. For the hundred time, Demelza wished Ross had never met Elizabeth.

"Uh-oh!" she said, adopting a scared tone of voice.

"What?" her son answered still angry.

"It's coming. I can feel it." She looked at him with wide eyes. Jeremy looked up at her, questioningly. "The kiss monster is here!"

She caught him in her arms and showered his face with quick loud kisses.

"Mama! No!" Jeremy squirmed and squealed, but he was laughing now.

"Yes!" she said in her best impression of the Big Bad Wolf. She made noises as if she was devouring him. Jeremy nearly missed punching her in the eyes in his wild excitement.

Ross looked at them, his gaze intense and unreadable.

"Mama! Stop!" She did stop and let her son catch his breath. She continued hugging him close.

"I brought you a little surprise at home." On an impulse, she had bought a Grow-in-Water-Dinosaur kit that had been on sale. With her employee discount, she could just about afford this tiny treat.

Jeremy's eyes sparkled.

"It's only a little surprise," she explained, not wanting to up his expectations too much.

"What is it?"

"You'll find out when we get home." She let him go and turned to his father. "He was good?"

"As always," Ross answered with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "He promised to show me how to make origamis next week."

"He is very good at them." She nodded, getting up.

"So I hear." Ross nodded back.

Demelza pushed a strand of hair behind her face. The atmosphere still felt tense. It was time to go.

She was about to tell Jeremy to get ready when she noticed Ross staring at her face, his brows furrow. "You've got a..." he mumbled as leaned in closer. "Let me."

His hand came up to her right cheek, and she felt the warmth of his rugged fingers upon her skin for the first time in many years. His touch was gentle as he wiped her face with his large thumb. She felt her eyes flutter in an uncontrollable motion as she leaned into his touch. Then just like that, it was gone, and he brought his hand back to his side.

"Thanks," she said, embarrassed by her body's reaction. She knew her voice sounded shaky.

"No problem." He avoided her eyes, looking at Jeremy who was putting on his coat.

"We have to go, papa," the little boy told him. The promise of a treat was obviously on his mind.

"Right, I'll get your bag then." Ross walked out of the room like he couldn't get away fast enough, his movements stiff.

Demelza took a large calming breath, schooling her features into a casual expression. She was pathetic. Getting all flustered like that over her ex. She really was lonely like Caroline said.

"You've got everything?" she asked in a high pitch voice when he came back in with her son's Batman's suitcase.

"Yes," he assured her in a weary tone.

"Because last time…"

"Boom Boom's in there. I double checked, Demelza." He sounded angry. This man's mood could give her whiplash.

"Good." She gave him a tentative smile.

He smiled back. "It was good to see you," he told her with the same intense look as before. Truly whiplash.

"You too," she said, not knowing if she meant it.

Her upcoming date with Hugh crossed her mind. It would do her good to be romanced for once. Something fresh and uncomplicated was just what she needed.

Ross gave her the bag. "I'll see you next week then," he said, his eyes focused on the cheek he'd just caressed.

Demelza turned away and busied herself by zipping up her son's coat and wrapping his scarf around his neck.

She felt guilty. Next week, while he would be watching Jeremy, she'd be out with another man. It was irrational. They weren't married anymore, they hadn't been for a long time, and she knew he had gone on dates.

Well, she knew of one date since Elizabeth. Truro was too small and the Poldark name too well-known in these parts for her not to know. Everybody knew about his affair and their divorce, and everyone felt it their obligation to inform her of his whereabouts.

Her name had been Harriet. She had been tall with blond hair, and she had spoken in the same public school accent he did or so Jinny had heard from Tholly. They had gone to the traditional dinner and a movie.

Really, she didn't owe him anything. The guilt squeezed at her throat.

"Yes, we will see you next week." Her voice sounded breathy. She needed to leave.

"Mama, let's go!"

She felt so grateful for her son in that moment. Jeremy was already walking to the door.

"Say goodbye to your father, Jeremy," she reminded him, mindful of his manners.

Jeremy rushed back into the room and into his father's arms. Ross bent down to receive his kiss.

"Bye papa. I love you."

"Goodbye Jeremy. I love you too." Ross mussed his son's long curly brown head.

The little boy jumped out of his arms and ran back to the door.

"Come on, mama!"

When they got into her car, Demelza put the heating on to the max. Jeremy shivered. The radio was playing the local boy choir, and she told her son they might get snow this year. The child clapped his gloved hands and cheered.

As she put Jeremy's seatbelt on, she couldn't say why, but she felt sure that Ross was watching them from his living room's window.

She drove away.


	3. More good than all the doctor's medicine

"You're going to die," Valentine informed her. His face was scrunched up in an impressive scowl as he leaned over her on the living room floor. Ross had been gone for an hour and Demelza was beginning to learn that his son had about as much patience as he did. It had taken all of her charms to keep the little boy occupied and away from his brother's room while his father was still out.

"Am I?" Demelza asked, trying to seem worried.

Valentine nodded, looking much too grave and serious for such a young child.

"Well, what can I do, Doctor?"

His scowl only seemed to grow deeper, as he thought up a remedy for whatever imaginary illness was ailing her. Demelza had the flitting thought that she couldn't see any traces of Elizabeth in his features.

"Here." Valentine handed her five markers, the bright colourful array contrasting with his somber tone.

"That's my remedy?"

He nodded.

"So, I'm all better now?"

"No," Valentine answered, looking as if she had said something rather foolish.

"No, I'm not better?"

"No." Valentine opened the yellow marker and started to draw a strange shape on the inside of her left hand.

"So what do I need to do?"

"Three times a week."

"Three times a week?" She couldn't hide her confusion. Valentine remained unfazed.

"Yes. Three times a week." Valentine nodded not looking up from his drawing.

"I need to draw on my hands three times a week and then I'll be cured?"

"No!" Valentine looked annoyed at this.

Demelza revaluated her life. How had it gotten this way? Hugh had had a romantic evening planned for them. She had been looking forward to it all week. Yet here she was, lying on the floor to Ross' flat, being told off by Elizabeth's son instead. It really wasn't fair.

"Three times a week and then I'll be better?" she asked giving up on understanding his toddler logic.

"Yes," he said, completely serious. Valentine left his drawing and came up to play with her hair, appearing fascinated by its colouring.

"I can count to five," he told her.

"Can you? That's very good."

She remembered Jeremy's seemingly nonsensical jump in conversations at that age. She followed along without questions.

"Yes." He smiled at her for only the second time that night. "One, two, three." There he seemed to hesitate for a moment. "...four…five."

"Good job! You're a very smart boy."

Valentine blushed, looking pleased.

"I can write my name too." He looked at her as if seeking her approval.

"That's very impressive, but you still have to fix me, so I won't die," she reminded him.

Gently, the child lowered himself down to give her a kiss on the brow, pulling on her hair in the process. Demelza held back a yelp.

"Better," he announced patting her head, just as she heard the door to the flat open and Ross' loud footsteps reverberating in the hallway.

"Any improvement?" Ross asked as soon as he stepped inside the living room. He was holding several grocery bags that looked heavy, even for him. Demelza stifled her desire to smile at the familiar scene. She had sent him to get a few things, and he had bought half the store as he always did.

"No. Not yet." She answered from her position on the floor. "But he's no worse than before. He's sleeping now. That should help."

Ross nodded as set down his bags in the kitchen and started to put things away.

"I, however, was dying," she told him, getting up to join him. Ross frowned back at her. He didn't appear amused.

"I'm alright now," she added. "The doctor told me."

"I'm a doctor," Valentine chimed in, following closely behind her. Understanding seemed to dawn in Ross' eyes.

"Are you indeed?" he asked his son.

"Yes, and I need to make you better." Valentine held up his plastic stethoscope in the air, giving his father a grave look.

"Is that so? Well, as wonderful as that sounds, you will need to examine me later," Ross answered, taking out a cheap bottle of pasta sauce out of the largest bag on the kitchen table.

"No, now." The little boy's tone held no room for discussion.

"I can't now. I must help Demelza with supper." Ross lowered himself down, looking at Valentine. "But later…"

"No! Now!"

"Valentine…" Ross began.

"I need your help too," Demelza interrupted, closing the refrigerator door. Valentine turned to her, staring at her with a frown. "I need you to clean up the living room and help your papa set up the table."

"I don't want to!" The toddler pouted. Clearly, he would need to go to bed right after he had his meal. His temper was becoming as short as his father's in one of his moods.

"But I need your help Valentine," she said, leaving her task to crouch down next to him, just as Ross got up to continue emptying the bags. "Your papa isn't nearly as good as you at setting up a table. If he does it alone, he will do it all wrong, and I'll be very disappointed. Please Valentine, will you do it for me?"

By now, the child's cheeks had gone pink as he stared at her. "I am good at setting up the table. Mama says so," he told her, becoming bashful.

Demelza gritted her teeth at the mention of his mother before she lied and answered, "I know. That's because you're such a smart boy. So will you help me, please?"

The boy looked down at the floor, unable to meet her gaze, his face now a deeper shade of red. He nodded without saying another word. She kissed his cheek and Valentine went crimson.

"Thank you. Now, please, can you pick up your toys, so the living room looks clean before we eat?"

The toddler walked to the living room and picked up the markers lying on the floor, putting them back in a blue plastic box.

"How ever did you manage this miracle?" Ross asked her, his eyebrows raised, obviously incredulous as he watched his youngest son at work. "It would take me half an hour to convince him to pick up a single toy."

"Tis nothing." She shrugged, as she went back to unpacking the grocery bags. "I think he might be a little sweet on me, that's all."

Ross had just put away a box of crackers when he stopped in his track. He stared at her and smirked.

"He wouldn't be the first." His voice was low. Demelza felt her heart flutter and blood rush to her cheeks. She focused on the bag in front of her. He truly had bought half the store. The man had no sense of restrain.

"How many chocolate bars are in there?" she exclaimed, holding six in her hands. "Easter is not for another month, Ross."

"That one is for you." He pointed at the familiar purple packaging of her favourite brand.

"For me?" Her heart skipped a beat. She felt ridiculously grateful. "Oh Ross, you shouldn't have."

"It is the least I can do for the woman cooking all of us dinner on her day off."

"Well, you needn't have bothered, but thank you all the same," she said, her voice soft.

Ross for his part looked entirely too please with himself, a shy smile playing on his lips, his chest slightly puffed up.

He continued unpacking, stacking spices on the rack, and fitting a lump of butter in the freezer. Demelza waited for him to step away so she could put the milk carton in the refrigerator.

"I also thought that Jeremy could use a treat when he feels up to it," Ross added, his eyes looking darker than before.

The thought of her son lying sick in his bedroom fell over Demelza like an ice bucket. Her poor little boy had drunk a whole pitcher of water before he fell asleep. His skin had felt clammy to the touch when she'd kissed his brow, and he had coughed so hard, she'd thought he might break in two.

"He'll be that glad."

Ross nodded, looking preoccupied before another shy grin broke across his face.

"A whole chicken," he said, taking it out of the bag and handing it to her. "It is free range. I remembered."

"Thank you," she said, smiling back.

"And your mirepoix." He took out the celeries, carrots, and onions with a flourish worthy of the crown jewels. He had bought too many, but she should have expected that. "I remember that is how you call those."

"So it is."

She had taught him that word on her first week off from university. She'd been so young, and so excited to show him all that she had learnt. She'd wanted to impress him, planning as she was on declaring herself before she went back to school. He'd been in one of his moods. Jim Carter had been caught dealing drugs, and his trial was coming up. As usual, Ross had believed that it fell on him to play the hero. So in between correcting Prudie's poor administrative work at the factory and studying for her upcoming exams, Demelza had cooked him some hearty stews in a failed attempt to comfort him.

When that hadn't work, she'd tried to comfort him in a whole different way. It was the night before she went back to class. She'd been wearing his mother's old ballgown…

Demelza cleared her throat, chasing the memory away.

"Where is your pressure cooker?" she asked. "I couldn't find it."

"It's in my room. I rarely use it. I'll fetch it for you."

Ross went out to look for the cooker when Valentine came up to her screaming, "Done!"

"Oh Judas! Speak softly Valentine. Are you really all done picking up your toys?" she said with a sceptical look towards the living room area.

"Yes," he said.

"Then what is it I see there?"

She pointed at the room where she could see a doll that had been stripped down naked, her hair tangled into a nest, lying on the floor, together with a stuffed penguin hanging on the curtains' rope, and the pieces of a shape puzzle streamed around the couch.

Valentine sighed. "I don't want to," he grumbled.

"You did such a good job already, and you're almost done. Go put your doll and your penguin next to your bed. Your papa will help you with the puzzle."

Valentine grumbled some more, even kicking his doll with his foot to show his discontentment, but in the end, he did as he was told. He really needed to be put to bed soon.

Ross came back with the pressure cooker, and half an hour later, Demelza's chicken broth was simmering in the pot while she was cutting up some boiled eggs for an appetizers, the smell of boiling onions and herbes de Provence floating through the room.

She had just finished mixing the egg yolk and was putting everything in the fridge, when she heard Ross give a painful grown. She turned to see him lying prone on the couch, Valentine sitting on his chest, the child holding his father's head between both of his hands. The boy's bonny knees were digging into Ross' torso, but Valentine seemed oblivious to his father's pain filled grimace.

"Is everything alright?" she asked, approaching the duo.

"It seems I am gravely ill. Valentine was administrating my medicine."

"I'm not Valentine," the boy barked back.

"I'm sorry, I meant my doctor was administrating my medicine," Ross corrected himself, shifting his son into a more comfortable position.

"Were you kissing him better like you did with me?" she teased the child, trying to cajole him into a better mood.

"No," he answered, pulling on his father's locks.

"My cure was much less pleasant, I assure you," Ross informed her. "I needed an operation. A lobotomy, I believe."

Valentine frowned at the unfamiliar word and turned to observe her. He stared at her for a moment before he finally said, "You do it."

"I do what?" she asked.

"You kiss papa better." His glare allowed no room for disagreement.

Demelza felt sure her eyes must have bulged out of their sockets.

"Oh no, no, no," she stammered out, trying to cover her embarrassment. "I'm sure your papa would rather you did it."

"No," was the child's only answer.

"Valentine, you heard Demelza. She said no." Ross attempted to reason with his son. She noticed that he was avoiding her eyes, as he tried to get up from under Valentine who protested, pushing his father down by the forehead.

"Valentine! I wish to sit down. Stop acting like such a child!" Ross was losing his patience, his voice hard, as he held up the child by his armpits.

Valentine's eyes misted over, his feet kicking in the air, the beginning of a sob emitting from his throat.

Demelza tried to be reasonable. Valentine was obviously tired and anxious. She knew he rarely spent the night at his father, Elizabeth was not one to share, and she suspected George rather enjoyed keeping Ross out of the boy's life as much as possible. Now, with his brother sick and all the adults around him doing a poor job at hiding their worry, the toddler was in a fragile state. She shouldn't be so selfish, making such a fuss over a little kiss.

"Alright, I'll kiss your papa better," she said in a soothing voice. "There's no need for tears."

The little boy continued to sob, holding up his arms for her to hold him.

She took him in her arms. He was heavy. She was too tired to hold him up for long. "It's alright, Valentine." She stroked his back and kissed his brow.

"You don't need to," Ross assured her, rubbing his temple as if to chase a headache.

"I said it was fine." It was her turn not to meet his eyes.

Ross sighed. "I'm very sorry," he said, looking his son, his tone conciliatory. Valentine quieted down. "I shouldn't have raised my voice."

Ross looked contrite and ashamed, and Demelza felt her throat close up at the sight of him. It was only a little kiss. There was no point in putting it off. Better be done with it. Taking a large breath, she leaned in and quickly kissed Ross on the cheek.

She barely had time to feel his stubble or smell his familiar scent before she backed away, putting Valentine down.

"See, here. Your papa's all better," she said with an overly cheerful voice.

"No," Valentine answered, his voice a bit shaky.

"No, he's not better?"

"No."

"And why is that?" Ross asked, clearing his throat.

Valentine sighed, annoyed, and pointing towards the couch, he told his father, "You lie down like you're sleeping."

Without anymore protests, Ross went back to his former position on the couch, fidgeting awkwardly trying to get comfortable.

"Now, you make him better," Valentine told her, his eyes far too large and innocent to deserve the burst of anger she felt at that moment.

Biting back her urge to scream, Demelza put on a smile and walked over to the couch.

Ross was lying there, stiff as a board, his jaw firmly locked as he stared at the ceiling, his eyes dark and stormy. He was clearly dreading this, and she couldn't help the silly flash of hurt she felt at the sight. She wondered if he would enjoy this more if she'd been Elizabeth. Did he still think about the other woman? Did he wish he could kiss her?

Demelza lowered herself down on her knees and focused on the couch's ugly black leather covering. It was probably more expensive than her television set, but it looked atrocious.

She heard the toilet flush at the end of the hallway. Jeremy must have gotten up to pee. She should get this over with and go check on her son.

She turned around to find Valentine glaring at them. He hadn't forgiven them quite yet. She gave him a forced smile. Taking another breath, Demelza berated herself for being so nervous. She was being ridiculous, she thought as she leaned over her ex-husband like she was the prince out of some fairy tale, but her own scolding didn't do much to assuage her fears, and she trembled with nerves as she kissed him smack on the forehead.

His skin felt soft under her lips, softer than she remembered. He still smelt fresh from his shower. Peppermint, she thought. For a short moment, she breathed him in, memorising his smell like she was still that pubescent child he'd rescued. She felt his breath catch. In a flash, she pulled away.

"Now, he's all better," she stated firmly. "I better go check on Jeremy. I think I just heard him get up."

She went up to leave the room.

"Of course," Ross said, swallowing noisily. "You'll tell me if there's any change?"

Demelza nodded quickly, her lips frozen in a poor imitation of a smile.

"Valentine and I will finish setting up the table," he added, getting up from his seat.

"I'm hungry," his son declared, oblivious to the tension in the room.

"I'll have supper ready soon," she told him, walking towards the hallway.

In his room, Jeremy was turning over in his bed, his covers lying rumpled up on the floor. His lights were still out, but he had put the tele back on. Demelza could see anthropomorphic cars racing each other on the screen, but her son did not seem to be paying them much attention.

"How are you feeling now, my lover?"

The boy only whined and coughed his answer.

"I know, I know," she said, feeling his forehead. It was still warm, but not worst than before. "Would you like mama to brew you some honey tea for your throat?"

Jeremy nodded, looking miserable, his nose red, his eyes glassy.

"Then I'll be back in a moment with a cuppa," she said, gently rubbing his tights and giving him her best reassuring smile.

Her heart squeezed. She couldn't stand to see her usually so cheerful little boy looking so sad and beaten. It made her wish she could absorb all of his pain for him. If only she had that power.

As she closed the door to Jeremy's room, Demelza heard a beep coming from the coat rack where her purse was now hanging.

Hugh must be wondering why she hadn't answered him yet. She imagined him, staring at his mobile, waiting to know if Jeremy was alright. He didn't deserve being ignored. He had been so sweet to her that night when he picked her up. He had brought her flowers, a beautiful bouquet of magnolias. And he always had been so understanding about her son coming first with her. He deserved better from her.

In the dinning room, Ross and Valentine were setting up the plates. She could hear the sound of porcelain dishes clinking against each other. Ross was telling the little boy something, his voice deep and appeasing.

Demelza shook her head, trying to calm herself. Ross and she were long over, she reasoned. There was no reason to feel so unnerved over something so insignificant as a peck on the forehead.

She was a complete and utter fool, she thought as she picked up her mobile to answer Hugh.

A\N: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed. That really means a lot to me.


	4. Growing anger, hardly smothered hatred

_Almost three years earlier_

"Are you feeling any better, my lover?" Demelza was kneeling next to an old fashion pull-chain toilet bowl as she toweled her son dry, gently rubbing his arms and torso.

Mother and child were standing in the largest bathroom in Nampara, a room situated in the Victorian extension of the house. Built in 1890, the washroom was tastefully decorated except for the brown and orange wallpaper, a 1970's addition which Demelza had never had the heart to do away with. It was Ross' mother's.

Jeremy nodded as both of his hands escaped the towel she had wrapped around him to rub his eyes. His skin was covered in itchy red spots, and it had taken all of her efforts to keep him for scratching himself. But his fever had broken several hours ago thanks to Dwight's advise, and Demelza felt much more relax. Her little boy would be alright in a couple of days.

"You're tired?" she asked. It was only 6 P.M., but his rashes had kept him awake all afternoon, preventing him from enjoying his usual nap.

Jeremy nodded again, and she wrapped him tight in his towel once more, so she could pick up his pyjamas.

"Would you like mama to bring you your supper in bed?" She expected him to protest. As soon as his fever had broken, Jeremy had wanted to join her downstairs for lunch. Much like her, her son did not like to lie around in bed any longer than he needed to.

"Yeah." The toddler yawned, and she knew he would fall asleep very soon.

"Would you like some mac and cheese with extra cheese?" Demelza helped him step inside his pyjama bottom. Jeremy leaned on her, as he carefully put one foot inside of each leg.

"Yeah." He gave her a smile and a quick nod of the head. "With extra extra cheese."

"Extra extra cheese, it is." She smiled back at him. She would have said yes to ice cream and biscuits for supper if it would have made him feel just a little bit better. He had had such an awful couple of days.

She passed his head through his pyjama top and helped him with the sleeves.

"There," she said as ran her hand over the two cartoon dogs on the front. Verity had given him these pyjamas for his birthday. Things were still a bit awkward between them since the divorce, but her ex-cousin-in-law still tried to stay in contact with her, and Demelza was glad for it. "Let's get you into bed."

She emptied the clawfoot bathtub before she left, and she watched as the dirty water swirled around the drain, the baking soda she had spread in it giving it a strange white colour.

She had just picked up Jeremy and was heading towards his bedroom when she heard the doorbell ring.

"Door," Jeremy told her as if she hadn't heard. Downstairs, Garrick barked.

"Yes, there's someone at the door, but you're going to bed first," She told him as she reached his room. His bedroom still smelt like a sickroom. It would need to be aired out tomorrow, Demelza thought as she tucked him in his bed. Jeremy was very tired, and he sighed and closed his eyes as soon as his head hit his pillow, putting his thumb in his mouth, something which still seemed to sooth him.

"I'll be right back." She kissed his forehead before she hurried downstairs, running to the door, almost tripping over Garrick on the way. She didn't even think about who might be standing on the other side before she opened wide.

"Hi," Ross greeted her, his hand in his coat's pockets. Garrick rushed to him, jumping on his lap. Ross leaned over to pet him.

"Ross," she said, and she knew she must have looked as shocked as she felt.

"Hi," he repeated.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. It was strange seeing him here again. Strange because it was so familiar, and yet it wasn't.

"I came to see Jeremy." He pushed Garrick away and shrugged. "I wanted to know how he was doing."

"He's alright," she said. Her voice was hard and cold as it usually was now when she talked to him. She hated who she became when she talked to him. "I told you we didn't need anything."

Garrick came up to her then, wagging his tail, and jumping around as if he wanted to share his joy with her. She pushed the dog inside without a petting.

"His fever?" Ross probed further. His voice was soft in contrast to hers. He was so gentle with her now, so understanding, always so understanding. Perhaps it wasn't fair, but it only made her hate him more.

"It's gone."

He sighed in relief, and then smiled at her, a true grin that showed all of his teeth. She felt the usual flutter in her stomach at the sight. She pushed it down.

"Can I see him?" he asked, sidestepping her to get inside. She stepped in his way, blocking his path.

"I just put him to bed." She crossed her arms in front of her chest as if she could keep him out with this barrier alone.

"I won't wake him." He pleaded with her, his eyes reminding her of the desperate look Garrick gave her when she left for work. "I just need to see him. I won't take long."

She sighed, and let her arms fall to her side. How could he still have such an effect on her after everything?

"Fine. You can go see him, but if he's sleeping you best not disturb him." She stepped away from the door, expecting him to rush to Jeremy's room, but he surprised her once more that evening by taking his time. Instead of hurrying up the stairs as she thought he would, Ross took off his scarf and coat and put them in their old spot on the coat hanger as he looked around the entrance to his ancestral home.

Garrick continued to wag his tail as he surveyed them from his spot by the entrance to Ross' old office.

"You changed the painting," Ross commented. She only frowned back at him.

"Over there," he continued and pointed at the painting of a mother kissing her baby that hung next to the staircase. "It used to be a painting of two lovers. You changed it."

She shrugged. The painting which had showed an 18th century gentleman approaching a pretty redhaired woman had always secretly reminded her of her and Ross. She had bought it at a thrift store when she was seventeen. Some part of her had always wished that he would gaze at her the way the man in the picture did his lover. She couldn't stand to look at it now.

"I needed a change," she said.

Ross nodded.

"It looks nice," he added. "And I like the new curtains."

He stared at the window in the living room next to the entrance way with a strange faraway look in his eyes. He had given her the royal blue curtains that had been there before. She'd changed them for some forest green ones.

"Thank you. Jeremy's upstairs," she said as if he needed to be reminded of his reason for being here.

"Right," he said, but he stood there for a little while longer, looking around him with that same strange look.

It had been more than a year since he last stepped foot in Nampara. She had made sure of that. It had never been her plan to keep the house. It was his family home after all. No matter how angry she had been and still was with him, she hadn't wanted to rob him of it. In fact, the thought of living there without him, surrounded by the memories of their life together, had seemed more like a punishment to her than anything else. But Ross had argued that it was what was best for Jeremy. Demelza would have the main custody of their son for the first few years before he was schooled, and the divorce would be less traumatic for him if he at least got to stay in the same home he'd always lived in. Nampara would be his inheritance some day anyway. So Demelza had kept the place for her son's sake, and when Ross moved in with Elizabeth in Trenwith just a month after he signed the divorce papers, she told herself she had made the right choice. It saved her from having to pay rent as well which on her clerk salary wasn't negligible, no matter how generous Ross was with child maintenance.

"Well," she said when Ross made no move to go upstairs, seeming instead transfixed by the portrait of the mother and her child by the staircase. The brunette mother's face was obscured as she leaned in to kiss her redhaired child on the forehead. Valentine would be almost a year old now. Perhaps Ross was thinking about him.

"Right." Ross cleared his throat. "I won't be long."

He made his way upstairs as she watched him from the entrance. Garrick followed him. The sight made her want to heave at its normalcy. She shook her head as if to shake the feeling away. The quicker Ross checked on their son, the quicker he would be out of her house, she told herself as she walked over to the kitchen.

Demelza took out the cheese and cream from the fridge. Everyone thought that the secret to a good mac and cheese was in the cheese. That wasn't entirely untrue, but she personally thought that the cream was just, if not more, important.

She put some water to boil for the pasta and added some salt, when she heard Jeremy's voice upstairs. Ross had woken him. He'd said he wouldn't, and yet again he had lied to her. She felt a surge of anger at the thought. She knew it wasn't entirely fair. Jeremy may not have been sleeping. He hadn't had his supper yet, and he was probably hungry. But she found it harder and harder to be reasonable when it came to Ross these days.

Demelza mixed the cheese and cream in the pot with a little more vigour than was strictly required, scowling at the ingredients as if they had done her some wrong. If Ross was smart, he would leave the house without telling her goodbye.

She continued to steer the cheese sauce as the pasta water started to bubble over. She added the macaroni to the boiling water.

"Jeremy is asking for his mac and cheese with extra extra cheese." She heard Ross say behind her. She didn't even turn to acknowledge him.

"It smells delicious," he added like it was two years ago, and she was cooking all of them supper. She flinched. "Then again, it always does when you're the one cooking."

"Was he sleeping?" she asked. Icicles must have been coming out of her mouth, her tone was so icy.

"What?" he asked confused, and her blood boiled.

"Jeremy. When you went to see him, was he sleeping?"

"No. He was groggy, but he wasn't sleeping."

She took a cooling breath. As if sensing her mood, Ross smartly chose to change the subject.

"Look, Jeremy wasn't the only reason I wanted to stop by," he said fishing in his trousers' pockets for something. "I also wanted to give you these."

He held up a set of keys to her. She looked at them but didn't pick them up.

"They're for my place. This one opens the main door, and this one is for my flat."

Ross and Elizabeth had split up last year. She knew he had a new place. She'd been there three times when Dwight and Caroline were off on their second honeymoon, and both Prudie and Jinny were sick. She had had no choice, but to drop off Jeremy at his father herself.

"I don't need them," she said.

"What?" He looked confused. "Of course, you do."

"I don't." She didn't look up from her works as she took out a bowl and a spoon, picking her son's favourite blue plastic sets with gold stars.

Ross put the keys down on the table and ran a hand over his hair. He inhaled as if to calm himself.

"How long are you going to do this, Demelza?" It was his turn to lose his composure. "How long are you going to punish me?"

She turned away to steer the pasta, biting her cheeks to keep the words in. There was no point in fighting about this anymore.

"You can't avoid me forever," he went on. "We have a son together or did you forget?"

"Did I forget?" She couldn't stay silent at this. The hypocrisy of this man truly knew no bounds. "Did I forget? I'm sorry, was I the one too busy making phone calls on Christmas morning to watch my son open his very first present? Did I miss his first step? Or was I the one spending all day with my mistress when he was teething?"

Ross clenched his fists, becoming a little red under the collar.

"That was years ago. I know I did him wrong. I know I did you wrong. But I'm trying…"

"Oh you're trying?"

"Yes!"

"So calling me a bad mother, that's you trying? I guess that's alright then."

"I didn't call you anything of the sort. I would never…" Ross rubbed his forehead and inhaled once more. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said that way."

She took the macaroni out of the water and added them to the sauce, wishing he would just leave and never come back.

"You're a wonderful mother," he said, his tone now as gentle as before. "You're the best mother I know."

She snorted.

"Truly, you are." He sighed. "But you cannot deny that you've been avoiding me. I can count on one hand the number of times I've seen you since we…" He stammered at that.

"Since we've been divorced," she finished for him. She wasn't afraid to say it. There was no point in running from such an obvious truth. "You're exaggerating."

"Perhaps, but barely. You know that I'm right. I don't think Dwight and I have ever seen as much of each other as we have in the last two years, and he is my best mate."

"Because stopping at Trenwith was such a pleasant experience, I just had to repeat it."

She had had no choice but to drop off Jeremy herself at the old Poldark estate, one month before the divorce had been formalised. Elizabeth's stomach had been big and round, but the woman herself had remained as dainty and pretty as ever. Her hair had cascaded around her shoulders in waves like she had just come out of a shampoo commercial. She'd been wearing a fuchsia maternity dress that would have made anyone else look like a birthday cake, but somehow had only made her look even more regal.

Elizabeth had been courteous, seeming not to find anything uncomfortable in receiving her boyfriend's ex-wife in her home. Ross had been mostly silent and stiff.

Demelza had held back her tears until she got home. There, she had locked herself in her room, and she had cried until her head hurt and she couldn't breathe.

"I'm sorry about that day. If we made you feel uncomfortable… but I am not with her anymore. Things are different now. I'm different now. You can stop by anytime. It won't be like it was then. She will not be there, Demelza. That's over. Over for good, I promise."

"Because she finally realised that George was the better bet." She sneered at him, feeling a twisted kind of pleasure in saying these words.

Ross dropped his gaze.

"I don't care about that," he said, sounding tired.

"Of course, you do."

She stopped the stove and put the pasta in the bowl, her movement sharp and brusque.

"No. Listen, I just want us to be friends again. It can't be like it was before. I understand that. But if you gave it a chance…"

"You're telling me to give us a chance?" She laughed, but it sounded bitter to her own ears. "You certainly didn't seem so eager to give us a chance two years ago when you went and fucked her. But never mind that. You've got a new flat, and you're a different man." She nodded mockingly.

"What do you want me to do?" he shouted. "Truly, tell me. What am I to do? What can I do to please you? I've been racking my brain trying to figure it out for two years, but I can't. So just tell me! What can I do? What can I say? I'll do it. Just tell me!"

"You could leave me the bloody hell alone! Or better yet, you could go back in time, make it so it all never happened at all."

Ross only stared at her, breathing hard like he just ran a marathon.

"No?" She sneered at him again. "You can't do that, can you? You probably wouldn't even if you could."

He didn't deny it. Instead, he just closed his eyes and said in a warning tone, "Demelza."

"Leave! You saw Jeremy, you can go."

"Would you even have told me that he had a fever?"

"What do you mean? I left you a message."

"Not yesterday. I meant last year when he had a stomach ache. Would you have told me if I wasn't with Dwight when you called him?"

"Of course," she said.

"Really because I am not so sure."

Truth was she wasn't either. It was two weeks after her visit to Trenwith, and she'd been especially bitter. She hadn't wanted to see him, and she knew he might show up to check on Jeremy. As neglectful as he had been of their son before their divorce, he was incredibly involved now. Some part of her had wondered if that would even last. He'd never wanted Jeremy. Would he lose interest again once Elizabeth had had her baby, the child he doubtlessly had always desired?

Ross had asked her questions over the phone, wanting to be assured that their son would be alright. He wanted to rush to Nampara to see him. Thankfully, Jeremy's fever had dropped in a matter of hours, and she'd been able to convince him not to come. It was petty and cruel, and she hated herself for it.

"I think Dwight would have been the one to tell me about it a week later," Ross went on, his eyes hard.

"No, he wouldn't have been," she said with all the righteous fury she didn't feel. "And you know what, fuck you!"

She heard her son cry. It was a clear and strident sound that reached her ears and stopped her heart. Both parents turned to find Jeremy standing by the kitchen door, Garrick in tow. The child's face was scrunched up, his eyes small and wet, and large fat tears running down his cheeks.

Demelza felt all the blood leave her body. Judas, how much had he heard?

Ross took him in his arms before she could even react.

"Hey there, my boy." He hugged the child close, his tone becoming cheerful. "We didn't hear you come in."

She was a terrible mother. She couldn't blame Ross for this, that was all her.

Jeremy continued to sob, his nose starting to run down his lips, his face red.

"It's alright," Ross soothed their son, rubbing his back. "Mama was just angry because I tried to steal some of your supper."

Jeremy gave a hiccup before he lifted up his head to look at his father in the eyes. He sniveled and rubbed his nose with the edge of his pyjama sleeves.

Ross nodded. "I was being naughty. Your mama was rightfully scolding me."

Jeremy turned to look at her sceptically.

"Really, my lover," she told him with what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

"Steal bad!" the toddler told his father with a scowl before he turned to her. "Yell bad!"

"Yes, it is," she said.

"Absolutely," Ross confirmed.

"No yell, no bad words, mama." Jeremy frowned at her. She felt herself flush with shame. "No steal, papa."

"I won't. I am very sorry." Ross kissed his son's brow.

"It's alright," the boy told him. He sniffled and stared at Ross with a serious expression. "We share."

"That's very kind of you, but I don't think I deserve it now."

"How are you feeling, Jeremy?" Demelza changed the subject.

"Hungry."

Ross chuckled and said, "Well, it's good thing your supper is ready then."

"You should go back to bed." Demelza approached father and son, her arms reaching to pick up the toddler.

"I want papa," Jeremy said, pushing her hand away. She felt like he'd stabbed her. Of course, he wanted his father to take him upstairs. She was the bad mother who'd made him cry.

Ross gave her an apologetic look. "If it's alright with you, Demelza?"

"Of course," she answered in a whisper, her eyes not meeting his.

Ross took the boy up to his room, while she looked for a tray to bring up his supper. Her stomach was in a knot. She never wanted Jeremy to witness something like this. Ross and her had always been so careful not to fight in front of him or at least not this hard. For the first time in her life, she felt like her father's daughter.

She took out the milk carton and poured out a glass in Jeremy's beaker. Garrick watched her from the doorway. She was probably imagining things, but she could swear he was giving her a disapproving look.

Ross came down and stopped in the kitchen to say his goodbyes.

"You should probably bring him his supper first," she said.

"You can do that." He smiled and shook his head. "He isn't upset with you, just a bit shocked. He's never seen you this angry. It was bound to happen sometime."

"It shouldn't have happened." She looked down at the floor.

"Demelza…" Ross held up his hand as if he meant to touch her.

"Please, just take up his tray." She turned away from him to put the remaining cheese and cream in the fridge.

Ross sighed but did as she asked.

She started the task of cleaning the pots and utensils, her mind a jumble.

She'd been selfish, she decided. She had put her anger and grief over her son's well-being. That was unforgivable. What happened between her and his father should have never been allowed to hurt him. Her grudge was her own.

Demelza vigorously rubbed away the left-over cheese sauce from the pot until it shone. The hot water felt too warm on her skin, but she didn't try to make it cooler. She didn't deserve to be comfortable just then.

Ross came back to the kitchen just as she had finished cleaning and was drying her hands with a white clothe.

"He is happily eating his supper," he announced as he walked in. "And I have no doubt he will fall asleep quickly once he is done. He looks much improved from what you told me in your message."

She nodded, staring at her shoes, her hands playing with the folds of her peasant skirt.

"I'll be off then," he told her, turning away.

"No, wait," she said, but the words stuck in her throat and she fell silent.

"Yes?" Ross asked her after she hadn't said anything for a while.

She struggled to find something to occupy her hands, something to distract her from what she was about to say, but her kitchen was now spotless. There was nothing left for her to do, so she kept on fingering her skirt.

"I wanted to say that I'm sorry," she finally said. "I shouldn't have said what I did. I shouldn't have yelled…."

"You don't need to apologise," Ross scratched the back of his head. "You didn't say anything I didn't deserve."

"But that doesn't matter. The point is I shouldn't have gotten angry like that. Jeremy…"

"Will be alright," Ross cut her off. "Demelza, you've always been honest with me. I won't have you be otherwise now, no matter how hard it might be to hear. I ambushed you. I should be the one to apologise."

"No, you don't need to do that." Demelza sighed and bit her lips. "It won't happen again. I can't promise that we'll be friends, but this." She pointed between them. "This is over. I won't let it happen again. I'll be the one who tries. I'll try, Ross."

Ross looked at her with a frown. "You'll try?"

"Yes, I'll try."

"Does that mean that you won't be avoiding me any longer?"

She took a deep breath and answered, "I won't avoid you anymore."

"And you'll take my keys?" he continued, both of his eyebrows now raised.

"And I'll take your keys."

Ross was quiet for a moment, as if he wasn't quite sure this was real.

"Good…I mean this is…I'm glad." He smiled at her and nodded.

They both stared at each other for a moment without saying anything. It would be difficult, they both knew it, but she had said she'd try.

Ross finally put his hands in pockets and said, "Right, I should be going. I'll leave the keys with you." He gestured with his head toward the table where he had left them. "Call me if there's anything new with Jeremy."

"I will."

Ross walked over to the entrance, and she followed him. She watched him as he put his coat and scarf back on.

"Well, I'll take my leave," he said as he stepped over the threshold. The sun had started to set outside, and the air felt cooler than before. Demelza hugged herself, admiring the pink colour of the sky.

"I'll see you on Tuesday," she said with a forced casual air.

Ross stopped in his track and turned to her, his eyes wide. She would be dropping off Jeremy at his place herself.

"I'll see you on Tuesday," he answered back with a large grin. "I'll see you on Tuesday," he repeated and then as if he was afraid she would change her mind if he stayed any longer, he left in a hurry.

She closed the door behind him and went back to the kitchen to pick up the set of keys. She put them in her purse, and there they stayed for about three weeks until she heard about his date with a woman named Harriet.

Jinny told her all about it when Demelza stopped by for tea with Jeremy in the woman's little flat inside the old servants' quarters of Nampara. It was exactly three days after Valentine's day, a day Demelza had spent at work, cleaning up vomit on the Café's floor.

She had smiled and nodded at everything her friend had said like it meant nothing to her who Ross saw, like he was nothing more than an old acquaintance she could gossip about.

Once she got home, she had left Jeremy in front of the tele, and she had tossed Ross' keys in the rubbish. She'd felt some satisfaction in the act.

She'd regretted it later, but she had never dared ask him for another set. He had never offered her another one.


	5. Stained by the water in the brook

When she walked back into the dinning room, Ross and Valentine were sitting around the table.

Impersonal as the rest of his place, the dinning room was the darkest room in Ross' flat with only one window that gave very little light during the day. Ross had obviously tried to compensate for the lack of natural light with a few lamps. One of them, a glass chandelier stood over the matching glass dinning room table. Probably, his attempt at style, she thought.

Father and son were eating their soup, the little boy chewing noisily while Ross appeared to have been famished as he nearly inhaled his supper, shovelling spoonful after spoonful in his mouth, sometimes letting out a groan of satisfaction.

Demelza had just finished feeding Jeremy. He hadn't eaten half as much as she'd hoped, but he had swallowed a few bites. Finally, she'd given him some Nurofen, and he'd fallen asleep before she even had time to wish him a good night.

Ross let down his spoon to rub away a stain on Valentine's left sleeve. It seemed the child had dipped it in his bowl. "How is he?" he asked when he finally noticed her.

"He's asleep for the night," she answered, sitting down on a leathered covered chair opposite his with a loud sigh. She couldn't wait to put on her pyjamas. Her dress had been perfect for her date, but it was proving unsuitable for the job of a nurse. Her skin would be branded with the shape of her gown as soon as she took it off tonight.

"Did he eat anything?"

"Not enough." She rubbed her eyes, fighting off the urge to yawn. "But he did eat half of his soup. And he drank a lot. That's what matters most."

Ross nodded, looking thoughtful, just as Valentine dropped his spoon in his bowl with a loud clunk and pushed his plate away.

"All done," the child declared.

"Splendid," Ross congratulated him, clearing away his supper. "Did you enjoy it?"

"Yes," Valentine answered yawning.

"Demelza is a very good cook. You know she'll have her own restaurant someday." Demelza flinched at this, but Ross cleared away Valentine's supper without seeming to notice her reaction.

That had been her dream once upon a time, back when she was studying to get her hospitality degree, and Ross had done everything to help her achieve it.

As soon as he found his young administrative assistant pouring over university pamphlets, Ross had been relentless about helping her get there, writing grant proposal with her late after work, helping her fill out various documents during their lunch breaks. He'd even offered to pay for her school books if she came home on holidays to work at the factory. And that's what she'd done. She'd come home on her fall break that first term, but her mind had been on more than just work, and on the last day of her visit, she had woken up tangled in her boss' sheets.

When she'd come home again for Christmas, she was throwing up everything she managed to eat which wasn't much. She'd never gone back to school. Ross had married her three weeks later. They had always talked about her going back someday, but between Julia, Jeremy, and their financial problems, there had never been any time or money for fancy degrees or culinary classes.

There would be no restaurant.

"How about some pudding?" Ross broke her out of her self-pitying thoughts. Valentine's eyes lit up as if his father had spoken some magic words.

"Yes!" the child answered, tapping the table with his hands.

"Yes what?" Ross probed.

"Yes please, papa."

"Do you promise not to tell your mama?"

Of course, perfect Elizabeth disapproved of sweets. Demelza had almost forgotten. She probably bragged about her youngest son preferring fruits to chocolate like she used to with Geoffrey Charles. What child preferred fruits to sugar? But of course, Geoffrey Charles didn't care for pudding, neither did he read comics, play video games or pick his nose. No, Elizabeth's son was much too perfect for any of that. Perfectly bored was more like it.

Valentine nodded his head so hard, Demelza felt sure it would fall off.

"Do you promise?" his father asked again.

"Promise!" his son swore.

Ross nodded, seemingly convinced, as he stepped out into the kitchen.

Demelza rubbed the back of her neck, her back hurt, the result of too much stress and wearing an uncomfortable dress. She really couldn't wait to take it off.

Valentine turned to her, regarding her for a minute with the same intense look Ross used to give her when they were first married. Some deep thoughts must be forming in his young mind.

"We can play doctor after," he finally said, telling her what to do rather than asking for her opinion. Like father, like son, she thought.

Satisfied with his own assessment, Valentine began to explain to her what the storyline of their game was going to be, when Ross walked into the dinning room to hand the child his dessert.

"There will be no more games today. After supper, it will be time for bed," Ross said, unwrapping the chocolate bar he had brought back from the store and giving it to his son.

"No," Valentine answered. It seems it was his favourite word tonight.

Ross sighed, looking as tired as she felt. "Yes, but we can play in the tub, and I'll read you a story before bed."

Valentine seemed to contemplate this offer, chewing on his Mars bar with his mouth opened.

"I want Demelza too!" he finally said.

"You want Demelza to come too?"

"Yes."

"Then you should ask her?" Ross said.

Valentine turned to her with the same serious gaze as before. "I'll show you my ponies. We'll play that we're swimming."

Demelza refrained from snorting in amusement. She supposed that for a Poldark that qualified as asking. After all, Ross had proposed to her in a very similar way, informing her two days after she told him that she was pregnant that they were to be married on January 20.

"Alright," Demelza said, and some of the amusement she felt leaked into her voice.

"Are you certain?" Ross asked. "Because if you're too tired…"

"I'm sure," she answered, watching as Valentine stuffed the last bite of chocolate in his mouth. "You help him brush his teeth, and I'll get his bath ready."

Ross nodded, taking the Mars wrappers from Valentine's hands to throw it in the rubbish.

With much strain, Demelza got up from her chair and made her way to the bathroom. The muscles of her back protested her getting up, and she rubbed the small of her back, trying to sooth it. She would need to go to bed soon, she thought as she heard Ross and Valentine's footsteps following behind her.

Once inside the bathroom, Demelza carefully kneeled down on the tiled floor to prepare Valentine's bath. She shivered at the sensation of the cool ceramic tiles on her exposed legs as she tested the water's temperature, nearly burning herself before finding the right balance between hot and cold water. Leaving the tub to fill itself, she made her way to the guest room to pick up Valentine's pyjamas.

Ross meanwhile helped Valentine brush his teeth which seemed to constitute a struggle, the little boy making his protest of the process loudly known. When Demelza came back in the bathroom, it was to find her ex husband' shirt covered in toothpaste. She held back a giggle at the sight. Ross shrugged back at her, seemingly not bothered by the mess.

It was strange, taking care of a child with him. They hadn't done so since Julia, and that was so long ago that that had started to take a certain dream-like quality in her mind, like it had all happened in a dream or to someone else.

Ross helped Valentine out of his clothes, and she closed the faucet, dipping her hand in the water to test it one last time. The water felt comfortably warm as she ran her fingers through it.

Together, she and Ross helped Valentine inside the tub, and the child splashed around for a bit before he turned to his attention back on her.

"You can be her," Valentine said handing her one of the plastic ponies from the toy basket, standing next to the tub. Water dripped onto the bathroom tile as he rummaged through the toy box. "I'll be him," he continued taking out a blue pony with a silver mane and a rainbow tattoo.

"Alright," she said.

"We're going to the beach. You don't know how to swim, and I teach you," the child explained, as Ross began to soap him up.

Demelza nodded, getting into character. She was used to playing similar games with Jeremy who hated taking his bath as much as the next child. Ross continued to clean the boy, attempting not to get in the way of their play.

She couldn't help, but reflect on how natural it all felt, taking care of a child with Ross. Of course, there was nothing romantic about it, they simply worked in tandem as they'd always done. They had always been a good team, long before they even got together.

A few minutes later, Valentine's pony had rescued hers for drowning, something which required a lot of splashing and dramatic noises, just as Ross finished rinsing his son. The child admonished her toy pony for going alone in the water on her own.

"It's bad!" he told her.

"It is bad," she agreed, nodding her head gravely.

"He saved her." Valentine pointed at his toy.

"Yes, he did," Demelza answered. "He's very strong."

The child nodded at her assessment. "But you shouldn't go in the water alone," he informed her, his eyes fixed on her as if testing her reaction. His uncertain gaze watching out for signs of disagreement on her face. "Mama says it's dangerous," Valentine went on. Demelza flinched at this, as the room around them seemed to grow cold. The illusion of domesticity she had slowly built up in her mind, bursting like a soap bubble.

"It is very dangerous," Demelza assured the toddler, feeling like the air she breathed had become heavy with memories of Francis and all that had come after. Ross looked at her, his gaze pained, but she turned away from him.

Demelza saw Ross get up from the corner of her eyes.

"I should probably clean up the kitchen," he said before hurrying out the doors, his voice strained, leaving her to finish taking care of his son on her own. She watched him go, making no attempt to stop him

Demelza helped Valentine dry himself and put on his night clothes, as she emptied the tub. Bribing him with the promise of a story, she managed to navigate the child to the guest bedroom to rest.

And so, half an hour later, Demelza had managed to get Valentine to sleep. The toddler had tried to convince her several times to give up on sleeping so they could play, but after a while exhaustion had finally won out, and he'd fallen asleep.

Ross was closing the dishwasher when she walked into the kitchenette. She saw him tense as he heard her approach, his muscles hardening as if he was readying himself for a blow, and she felt suddenly drained.

"Valentine's asleep," she informed him, letting out a powerful yawn as Ross turned to face her. "I think I better go home."

Ross stared at the floor in front of him, his face grave. As she looked back at him, Demelza noticed how grey his skin seemed at that moment, dark circles were beginning to form under his eyes. She probably didn't look much better. She needed to go home and get some rest.

She thought of her soft bed and how it would feel to sink into it. But that would be in a while yet. She shuddered at the prospect of driving all that way back to Nampara.

Ross was still staring at her without a word.

"I'll grab my coat. Please call me if Jeremy needs anything. Even if it's two in the morning, I want to know." Demelza sighed as she made her way to the entrance to Ross' flat. She hadn't made it farther than the living room when she heard Ross calling her back.

"You could sleep here," he blurted out.

Demelza stopped in her track and turned to him.

She could sleep here. For a while, she only blinked at him. The offer was simply too strange for her to contemplate fully.

"You can have my bed. I just changed the sheets," Ross went on. "I can sleep on the couch. It's a quite comfortable couch."

Demelza felt her eyes widen in shock.

"I…" she fumbled for what to say. She knew she had to refuse. It was the only proper thing to do, but her mouth couldn't seem to form the words.

"This way you'd be here if Jeremy needs anything," Ross pointed out stripping away the refusal from her lips. He knew she couldn't say no when it came to Jeremy.

She could sleep here, in Ross' bed.

"I don't have anything to wear to sleep?" she said, her voice betraying her hesitancy.

"You can borrow one of my shirts."

Her stomach dropped. Somehow this felt meaningful, like she was agreeing to more than just sleeping here one night. This felt like change, but she wasn't sure what that change entailed.

"I'm sure Jeremy would be glad to have you there if something happened," Ross went on.

The thought of staying close to Jeremy was tempting. She knew she would get no sleep at Nampara with her son sick and miles away, but she just might be able to fall asleep here, knowing that she could rush to Jeremy if anything was wrong. She would only be a few doors down from him, asleep in Ross' bed, wearing his shirt…

"I would be glad to have you there if something happens." Ross said, his eyes soft and sincere. Demelza felt the last of her defense crumble.

"I can sleep on the couch," she offered. Ross sighed, a fond smile growing on his lips.

"No, you will not," Ross said. "You are my guest, and you'll have the bed."

Demelza shifted uneasily on her feet, not meeting his gaze.

"I wouldn't mind the couch," she insisted.

"I, however, would mind having you sleep on the couch when I could offer you a bed," he answered, but Demelza kept on shifting uncomfortably. Ross leaned forward to catch her gaze. "It's the least I can do."

Forced to meet his eyes, Demelza could do nothing but nod. She was too tired to argue further. Ross looked pleased at this, then as if judging that the discussion was over, he moved past her toward his hallway.

"Come," he ordered. Demelza followed, feeling as if something small, but important had just shifted between them.

Together, they made their way to Ross' bedroom, a room she had never stepped foot in, but had often imagined. Would there be signs of another woman in that room? A picture of Elizabeth framed by the door? A pair of small pink socks left over by some nameless pretty socialite he had spent the night with? Demelza hated herself for caring.

Stepping into the room, she found none of that.

Like the rest of his apartment, Ross' bedroom felt cold. The room was sparse with very little furniture, a bed with a little table next to it, a closet, and a drawer. There were no colours anywhere. From the white walls to the beige bed sheets, the place felt stale and dead, like a picture in an IKEA catalogue. There were no signs to give away the personality of the man who slept there anywhere, but for a few pictures standing on his bedside table.

Demelza looked around awkwardly while Ross made his way to his drawer. She would be sleeping here tonight. The thought made her stomach flutter.

Unsure of what to do with herself, she made her way to the bedside table to get a better look at pictures there. The action made her feel absurdly guilty, like looking at the only decorations in his room made her some kind of voyeur. She chased away the thought.

The first thing she noticed was the framed picture of their son from last Halloween. Dressed in his batman costume, her little boy stood looking directly at the camera, grinning. His father was standing next to him, holding two gigantic toffee apples in his hands, smiling just as brightly. Demelza remembered how Jeremy had refused to take off his costume for a month after that day, wearing it under his school uniform everyday, even going so far as keeping it on to go to bed. She'd been forced to sneak it off of him during the night to wash it. But her son had been too happy for her to force him to take the costume off. Ross had given it to him on his birthday, and she suspected that Jeremy's attachment to it was no coincidence.

Demelza let out a sigh. Not for the first time, she wondered if her son would one day grow to resent her for the divorce.

Behind Jeremy's picture, in a similar silver frame, was a photograph of Valentine. The toddler was ridding a pony, Ross holding the reigns. Impeccably dressed in a riding habits, the child stared at the camera with the confident gaze he inherited from his Poldark ancestor. Demelza felt her heart sting at the proud look Ross was giving his son. His and Elizabeth's son. She knew it wasn't fair on the child to feel as she did. She tried to squash down the thought.

"Here is a towel, if you feel like showering tonight, a spare toothbrush, and something to wear to bed." Ross was standing behind her, talking, but she wasn't listening, her mind too absorbed by the sight of the last picture on Ross' bedside table.

Her eyes burned. She remembered that day so well even if some details were beginning to escape her.

She'd plan a picnic for the three of them. As a child, she had always envied those families who went on beach picnics. They were the same kind of families who ate supper together, went on camping trips, and had family game nights. They were the families where parent attended every school play and left little notes in their children's backpacks that said things like "You'll do great today. I love you – Mum xxx" or "You're our sunshine!"

When she was a child, she used to imagine what it would be like to be a part of a family like that, what it would be like to have a father who braided her hair and a mother who helped her study for her history test.

She had wanted to give Julia just that, starting with a picnic on the beach. Ross had gone along with her plan as he always did with all of what he considered her strange fancies. He'd packed Julia's baby bag and made sarcastic comments about how boringly bourgeois they were becoming, all the while kissing her cheeks and pinching her butt to let her know he didn't mean a word of it.

She'd prepared three different types of sandwiches, two different types of compote for Julia, a homemade pie, and she'd pressed some fresh orange juice for the occasion. She had packed it all in a pretty little picnic basket adorned with a red bow. She'd even found a red and white checkered tablecloth at the Bodmin's Heart Foundation store to bring with them.

It had been a beautiful day. She remembered the clear blue sky, the gentle sound of the waves reaching the shore, the warmth of the sun on her skin.

They had eaten under the shade of the umbrella, Ross had brought, while Garrick had chased after seagulls who screamed their disapproval at him.

The day had been unusually warm, so much so that they had been able to go in the water for a little while. Julia had touched the sea water for the first time that day, laughing at how the waves splashed around her when she hit them with her fist. She'd love it so much, she hadn't wanted to leave even after the weather had started to turn. Her baby had cried when they'd walked back to Nampara, not wanting to go home just yet.

Ross and she had talked about doing this again the next summer, but of course, there had been no next summer.

The framed picture by Ross' bed had been taken right after they finished eating. Julia was resting in Demelza's arms, her chubby pink cheeks sticky with compote. Her daughter was smiling at her from under a wide brimmed pink hat. Demelza was grinning back at her, looking like a child herself in a bright yellow bikini. She had barely been twenty then. Ross had one arm around them both, his other hand holding his phone as he took the picture. He looked happier than she could remember ever seeing him since. His hair held back in a bun, his skin oily and pasty white against the glaring sun, with a mark of baby spit left on his shoulder, Ross was glowing with a sort of inner light he no longer possessed.

Demelza turned away from the sight, trying to quell the tears that threaten to fall, only to find Ross staring at her.

"That day was one of the happiest days of my life," he said, his face grim, his eyes tired. "I don't want to forget it."

Demelza nodded, taking a large breath. "It was a happy day," she answered. "She was…"

The words caught in her throat, a lump solidly lodging itself there. Demelza rubbed away at the tear she couldn't stop from escaping.

Ross cleared his throat and continued as if he understood exactly what she had been trying to say. "Yes, she was, wasn't she?"

"A miracle," she answered her voice meek and small.

Ross nodded back. "Our miracle," he repeated, looking lost for a second or two, the young man from the picture, unrecognisable in the face of the old man standing in front of her. That man was tired and grey, his eyes no longer sparkling with the hopeful joy of youth.

Ross shook his head, as if to clear his thoughts.

"I wanted to thank you," he said, bringing them back to the present.

"Thank me?" she asked, confused.

"For everything you did today. I'm not sure how I would have made it without you."

Her stomach twisted at the sincerity of his expression. "It was nothing," she said, dismissing his praises.

"No, it was not. What you did for me today, for Jeremy, and for Valentine, I cannot thank you enough." She shook her head at this, but he continued. "Demelza, not many women would have been as kind to Valentine as you were today. I want you to know that I realise this and that I appreciate your kindness and generosity all the more for it."

"He's a lovely boy."

"He is." Ross smiled at her. "And he thinks the world of you, as do I."

Demelza looked at the floor, unsure of what to say to that. Ross was not a man who gave praises easily which made any compliment she'd ever received from him all the more precious to her.

"And I apologise," Ross said, his voice losing some of its conviction. "I am sorry if tonight got in the way of your date."

He swallowed, as the full force of his gaze fell on her, as if weighting her reaction.

Demelza nodded, but said no more than a vague, "Thank you."

A silence fell between them. Demelza fiddled with her hands, not knowing what to say. She had no desire to talk about Hugh with him. Ross looked away from her, his face becoming blank of expression.

"Right, well, I'll leave you to get ready for bed." Ross scratched the back of his head before adding. "If you need anything else, you need only ask. I'll be down the hall if you need me."

Demelza gave him a small smile, taking another deep breath. "Thank you," she said.

"Goodnight then." Ross picked up a small pile of his things and walked towards the door.

"Goodnight."

Ross left, and the air in the room felt lighter from his absence. Demelza let out a sigh as she started to get ready for bed, pushing thoughts of Hugh and picnics on the beach at the back of her mind. It was all too much.

Making her way to Ross' ensuite bathroom, Demelza opened the package protecting his spare toothbrush. She took out the blue plastic brush, applying a generous amount of paste on it as she began to brush her teeth.

Ross had said that he thought the world of her. Her heart squeezed at the thought as the taste of peppermint invaded her mouth. The same smell she had tasted on his skin when she'd kissed her ex's brow. Demelza vigorously brushed her teeth and gums, wishing she could just as easily brush away the silly old feelings Ross had evoked in her. Shaking her head at her own foolishness, she rinsed her mouth. Ross had been kind to her, there was no reason to lose her head over it.

Dismissing thoughts of her ex, Demelza put away her toothbrush and began to plait her hair. She decided to forgo a shower tonight, not sure that she could manage to stay upright long enough to wash herself. Carefully arranging her hair, she took a look at herself in Ross' bathroom mirror. Her face looked unnaturally white, her eyes were slightly bloodshot, and her forehead was covered in stress lines. She looked old, she thought as she finished tying her hair, not at all attractive.

She turned away from her reflection with a tired sigh and made her way back to Ross' bedroom. The shirt he had left for her was still there, folded on top of the bed.

Taking off her pretty dinner dress, she took note of the expected red marks the frock had left on her body. She cringed at the thought of having to put it back on the next day.

Naked, Demelza slipped into Ross' shirt, a shirt she had seen him wear before when she'd come to pick up Jeremy. The thought made her blush as she buttoned up the chemise, the material rubbing against her skin as she did.

Looking at the pile of thing Ross had left her, she discovered a clean pair of boxer shorts for her to wear. She put them on, reprimanding herself for wondering when they had last been worn. She shouldn't have these kind of thoughts.

Finally, getting under Ross' dull beige sheets, Demelza switched off the light, hoping to succumb to sleep right away. She felt more tired in that instant than she had felt in a long time. Shifting to lie on her stomach, she closed her eyes and tried to regulate her breathing, but her brain wouldn't let up, her mind conjuring thoughts of her daughter, of Jeremy; sick lying in his bed, and Ross always Ross.

Demelza spun around to lie on her side, hoping for sleep to claim her. Sleep didn't come.


	6. Tears shed with such wild passion

_More than four years earlier_

Demelza was late. She should have been at Trenwith twenty minutes ago, and it now looked as if she wouldn't make it there until noon. Normally, keeping people waiting would have bothered her, but not this time. Let them wait.

Demelza watched as the car in front of her, a small navy-blue vehicle that looked brand new, backed up in the surrounding hedges to allow for a small van to pass in the opposite direction. She was driving on a small country road between Truro and Trenwith. One of those two-ways roads that barely had any space for one car. The old woman in the driver seat of the navy-blue vehicle looked befuddled as she tried to manoeuvre herself out of the way, only managing to get the rear-end of her car stuck in a puddle on the side of the road.

Demelza sighed. They would be there for a while.

"Off!" She heard Jeremy say from the backseat. The child sounded annoyed. "Off!"

Demelza had just picked him up from day-care, a still relatively new experience for them both and something which Jeremy still seemed to resent. Since she had left Ross, she had had no choice but to look for work. Well, that was not completely true. Ross hadn't closed their joint bank account yet, and she suspected he wouldn't until the divorce was through, even if she hadn't touch it in months. He had also been generous with child and spousal maintenance. She had fought him on the latter, but she was now glad to have agreed to it. With the money Ross had left her, she only needed a part-time job to live comfortably. Still, even if it was only a few hours a week, someone had to watch Jeremy, and while her friends had stepped in to help, she couldn't always rely on them.

This week had been particularly difficult, and Jeremy had spent a lot more time at his day-care than usual. Dwight had been away on his honeymoon, and Prudie and Jinny had been working extra-hours so there had been no one to watch him during her shifts.

She hadn't asked Ross.

As a result, Jeremy had been moody most of the week, throwing tantrums that were unusually violent for him, even if he was in the middle of his terrible twos. Just a minute ago, getting him to sit in his car seat had been a small battle. None of her normal tricks had work. He hadn't listened to her explanation. He hadn't care about the toys she'd tried to entice him with. He hadn't wanted a snack. He'd even refused to play with her purse, an activity which normally excited him. Instead, he had cried, screamed, and fought her off as she buckled his seatbelt.

The divorce was taking its toll on the both of them.

"Soon, my lover," Demelza turned to address him. "We'll be at papa soon. Then you can get out of your seat."

"Off!" Jeremy repeated, kicking his feet.

"Do you want to play a game?" she asked, hoping to avoid another tantrum, but her son looked nonplused by her suggestion.

Outside, the old lady in front of her had finally managed to back up enough to let the van pass unencumbered. It wouldn't be long until they would be starting up again. Then, she would be on her way to Trenwith. Demelza felt her stomach knot.

Elizabeth would be almost eight months along…

Behind her she heard the beginning of a sob, signaling the start of a tantrum.

"Look at the little bird!" she said, pointing towards a magpie that was flying between the hedges, its black wings flapping in the air, contrasting against its white belly. "Did you see the bird, Jeremy?"

Her son went silent at this, his eyes becoming wide, his mouth slightly agape as he turned to watch the scene outside his window. Demelza sighed with relief as she started up the car again.

"What do birds do?" she asked the toddler, driving away from the magpie. "Do you know what birds do?"

Jeremy's answer was to wave his arms up and down rapidly in the air.

"Yes." Demelza nodded. "And what is that called?"

"Faye," Jeremy answered with a growing smile.

Demelza felt a small measure of triumph at the sight. Coaxing the child out of a tantrum had been no small task lately. Any little smile was a hard-won victory. She could thank Ross for that. Him and Elizabeth.

"That's right," she congratulated him, making sure to keep her tone cheerful. "Birds fly."

The little boy laughed at this, clapping his hands. Demelza racked her brain for a way to keep her son's mood cheerful as she switched road.

"And what do sheep do?" she asked him as they passed a field where a flock of them was grazing. A few of the animals lifted their head to watch her car roll by, the others continued eating seemingly undisturbed. Their wool was mark with a blue dye strike and looked a bit wet from an earlier shower. The sky above them still looked grey. It would rain again soon.

"Sheeb!" Jeremy pointed them out to her, stretching his right arm towards the window.

"Yes, sheep," she repeated. "But what sounds do they make? Do you remember?"

"Sheeb."

"Sheep go baa," she imitated the animal.

"Baa!" Jeremy screamed pumping his fists. Her son turned to watch the animals in the field, as he continued to imitate them.

The tantrum seemed to be averted for now. She knew one would come sooner than later, but by then, it would be Ross' problem. He could deal with his own son for once, she thought bitterly.

By the time she was driving through Trenwith's gates, Demelza had imitated a rooster, a donkey, and a cow, the game keeping her son entertained for the time being.

"What does Garrick do?" she asked as the Poldark family home came into view. The place looked as imposing as it did the first time she'd visited it five years ago. It still amazed her to think that anyone could own such a house. It seemed to her that a manor like this one should belong to the National Trust, so people could tour it and have tea in the garden. It was much too big for any one person to be comfortable in it, and much too cold for it to be anyone's home. But of course, it was Ross' home now.

She thought of his new life there with the family he'd always wanted, a thought she never usually allowed herself to dwell on. She couldn't avoid thinking of it now.

She wondered about his life there, about whether he woke up early to prepare Elizabeth's breakfast in bed as he used to do for her when she was expecting Julia. She wondered about the kind of father he was to Geoffrey-Charles.

The thoughts felt like knives wounds to her stomach.

Demelza took a deep breath as she parked in front of Trenwith's main door. For a while, she remained in her seat without moving. Her hands gripped the steering wheel as she inhaled and exhaled. Once more she cursed Dwight for getting married now. She shouldn't have to do this.

"Woof!" Jeremy finally answered her question still laughing.

Demelza exhaled one last time and closed her eyes.

She buttoned her coat, tying her scarf around her neck.

"Very good, my lover," she said with a forced smile, as she unbuckled her seatbelt and turned to open her door. "Garrick goes woof."

"Woof woof!" Jeremy continued, watching her exit the car, an old Ford vehicle she had bought online from a couple of retirees.

Demelza opened the door next to Jeremy and released him from his seat, prompting her son to jump into her arms. She helped him with his winter clothes, putting his bonnet firmly on his head and zipping his coat all the way up. She picked him up, holding him a little more tightly than necessary as she walked towards the front door to Ross and Elizabeth's home. Jeremy fussed in her arms, pushing his arms against her torso for more space.

"I'm sorry. Mama is hugging you too hard." She released her grip a little and her son settled.

For a little while, Demelza stood in front of the mansion's door without moving. She thought of turning back, of taking her son with her and making a run for it. It would violate the terms of the custody agreement she'd signed, but that would be nothing less than what Ross deserved. He'd never cared for Jeremy before, so why did he now? Better to take off and run; he would forget all about Jeremy once Elizabeth's baby was born. Why torture herself with this?

"Off!" Jeremy exclaimed, obviously tired of being held.

Demelza smiled down at him. "You're going to see papa."

Her son frowned at her.

"You want to see papa," she said as much a reminder to him as to herself. That's why she was doing this. There was nothing she wouldn't do for that little boy, the one good thing to come out of her marriage. "You're going to have a great weekend with papa and Geoffrey-Charles, won't you?"

Jeremy continued to frown at her as she rang the doorbell, bracing herself for what was to come next.

The new Au-Pair, a pretty girl in her late teens, was the one to open with a simple "Yes?"

"Is Ross here?" she asked, making sure to keep her features neutral. The young girl gave her a gentle smile and opened the door a little wider.

"May I ask who…" she began to say.

"Demelza?" Demelza heard Elizabeth ask from behind the Au-Pair, the sound of the woman's voice hitting her like a cold shower. The muscles of Demelza's back tensed up. There was no avoiding this.

The older woman made her way to the door to stand in front of her, dismissing the teenager with a, "Morwenna, you may go."

The Au-Pair moved away from the door, and with a small nod and another polite smile, left the room.

Elizabeth looked radiant as she stood in front of Demelza. Her perfectly styled hair fell around her in gentle waves around her shoulders. Her skin which had always seemed flawless now glowed with health, her cheeks slightly rosy, her eyes sparkling. She was dressed in a fuchsia maternity dress that would have made anyone else look ridiculous, but somehow only accentuated the perfect symmetry of her curves. Secretly, Demelza had hoped that this second pregnancy had spoiled the other woman's figure, but except for her obviously rounded belly, Elizabeth appeared just as slim as usual.

Once again, Demelza couldn't help but compare herself to Ross' great love. Her skin was covered in freckles and stretch marks that did nothing for her looks. She had always been a skinny child, flat as a pancake, deprived of the natural curves with which Elizabeth had been gifted. Yet, her own pregnancies had done some damage, and she would never have the narrow hips she used to or the flat and tight belly of her youth.

She would never be porcelain, always earthenware.

"How do you do?" Elizabeth asked with a polite smile. "Please, come in."

The older woman gestured towards the entrance, stepping aside to allow Demelza in.

"Thank you," Demelza answered as she made her way through the door. She did not smile back.

Trenwith was on the inside as it was on the outside, large, imposing, and cold. Of course, it was beautiful. With its stone walls, ancient tapestries, and Elizabethan windows, there was no denying that Trenwith was exquisite. However, for all of its artifices, it lacked the warmth that exuded from Nampara's every cervices. Nampara was much smaller and much less grandiose. The Dark Poldark estate had been built and rebuilt many times throughout the centuries, making it an architectural nightmare. Time periods that should never be combined were so everywhere in the old manor Yet, it gave the place a certain charm that Trenwith and its classical perfection couldn't match.

"Would you like something to eat? We were just having lunch." Elizabeth closed the door, looking at her as if there was nothing wrong with what she'd just asked.

Demelza couldn't help but snort. The idea of them all sitting down to have lunch together seemed too absurd to consider. What next? Should they go shopping together? Would Elizabeth ask her to be godmother to her love child? Be witness at her wedding?

Demelza felt bile rise to her throat as a fire burned in her belly. Elizabeth continued to watch her, waiting for an answer.

Demelza adjusted Jeremy around her hips. Her son whined his disapproval at the curtness of her movements.

"I already ate," she lied, her tone short.

Elizabeth blinked at her as if surprised by her lack of manners. Demelza wasn't acting according to whatever bourgeois script the other woman had planned.

"Oh," Elizabeth finally said. "Of course, well…" But she didn't complete that sentence, obviously at a loss for words.

For a moment, a silent grew between them. Demelza felt a petty sort of satisfaction at the sight of Ross' mistress for once made to feel out of place

Jeremy fussed in Demelza's arms. Her little boy might not understand what was taking place, but he understood that he wanted no part in it. She kissed his forehead to sooth him, but the child turned away from her with a grimace.

Footsteps resonated through the hall, breaking the silence. Both women turned in direction of the sound as Ross made his way into the room. Demelza's ex walked into the entrance hall with his back straight, but his head slightly hunched as he looked down at his feet.

Looking at him, Demelza felt her knees shake uncontrollably as her throat closed up. The trembling spreading from her knees to her arms at such a speed that it was impossible for her to dissimulate it. She hadn't anticipated her own reaction to the sight of him. It had been almost three months since they had signed the divorce papers, and they had not seen each other since. If it was up to her, they never would have again. Demelza gritted her teeth, trying to keep the strong surge of hate growing in her gut at bay. She continued to tremble.

Ross turned towards her and cleared his throat.

"Demelza," he greeted her.

Her ex looked calm as if her presence at Trenwith was no remarkable event. He was smartly dressed in a tailored shirt and tie which she had never seen him wear on the weekend. Perhaps he hadn't wanted to make the effort for her.

Watching him, standing there, seemingly unfazed, she felt the urge to slap him. What it would be like to watch as his cheek grew red with the mark of her hand.

Never once in her life had she thought she could hate anybody this much.

As if conscious of the tension in the room, Jeremy started to cry, a loud scream coming out of his throat, big fat tears running down his face as he extended his arms towards his father, balancing his weight on one side of Demelza's hips. Ross took him from her.

"Hi there, my boy," he said holding his son to him. "I'm very glad to see you."

Ross kissed Jeremy's dark curly head, as the child clung to his shirt and continued to scream. Demelza felt helpless to fix it.

"I'll go grab his things from the car," she said, walking rapidly towards the entrance door, trying to quell her trembling.

"Do you want me to send Morwenna to help you?" Elizabeth asked, still playing the hostess.

Demelza's hands fisted around the door's handle.

"I can manage," she answered, but her voice shook. She cursed herself for her own weakness.

"Are you cert…" But Demelza didn't let her finish as she made her escape.

Walking towards her old Ford vehicle, she tried to calm herself as her eyes stung. She wouldn't let Elizabeth or Ross get to her.

She opened the trunk of her car and began to gather Jeremy's bags, but her vision was slightly blurry. She rubbed at her eyes, trying to erase any trace of her own vulnerability, but the tears kept on coming, until one made its way down her left cheek. She stopped with her task in an effort to gather herself. Demelza closed her eyes and breath in and out for a second or two, when she heard the muffled sound of steps on gravels behind her.

She didn't open her eyes until she felt his presence beside her. Ross was looking through her trunks, arranging Jeremy's diaper bag around his shoulders.

"I said I could manage," she said, her voice curt.

Ross ignored her, continuing to grab Jeremy's things as if she hadn't said anything. He put on her son's backpack, taking out the suitcase she had packed, his movements stiff.

"I said I can manage," she repeated, her tone now more than a little curt.

Ross's neck stiffened, his hand fisting around the handle of Jeremy's suitcase.

"You always can," he bit back as he walked back towards the house without so much as a glance in her direction.

His answer landed on her like a punch. He hadn't said anything particularly insulting, yet she felt sure he had meant it as such. Her blood boiled.

"What did you say?" she asked, her question laced with venom. Ross stopped in his track but didn't turn to look at her. She could see his jaw lock, his hand still fisted around their son's bag turned white. After a moment, he walked on.

"No!" she yelled at him, slamming the trunk's door shut with more force than usual. "Answer me."

Demelza stomped in his direction, her heart beating a mile a minute in her chest. She felt blood rush to her face as she continued to ask, "What did you just say?"

She nearly choked on the words as her throat contracted.

She wasn't sure why it mattered so much that he gave her an answer, but it did.

Ross finally turned to look at her and responded, "Only that you can look after yourself. You have no need for anybody's help, let alone mine."

He sounded cold and detached, his face was devoid of emotions, but for something in his eyes that made her take a step back. Ross remained outwardly calm, but something burned in his gaze, something violent and vicious, like the look of a cornered prey fighting off a predator. She couldn't understand why he would look at her that way. But before she could figure it out, Ross shrugged and whatever was hiding behind his eyes was gone.

She had never seen him like this before. Never, except once. The first few weeks after Julia…

The thought made her pause. For the first time that day, she took the time to look him, truly look him. She realised she had missed a few details in her earlier assessment.

He seemed thinner, she noticed, his cheeks hollowed. His tailored suit did not fall on his shoulders the way it used to, instead it looked a little big on him. For reasons she couldn't explain, she felt no pity at the sight. If nothing else, it made her even more angry.

How dare he be anything but perfectly content!

"I can take care of myself," she told him.

Ross looked down at the ground, avoiding her eyes, and nodded. "I'm well aware."

His reaction or his lack of one made her wish to scream. Why was it that he could reduce her into a fragile mess when none of her words so much as grazed him?

Ross turned back towards the house. She watched him go, her breath shaking. Around her, she could hear birds chirping excitedly in the trees, as a gush of wind whipped her face. It would start to rain soon.

For a little while after he had gone, she remained in her position, unsure of how to proceed. The thought of walking back in and facing him once again seemed like too much.

The wind continued to pick up speed, her hair blowing wildly about her face. She felt something wet hit her left cheek.

Demelza thought about driving out without saying goodbye. They were beyond politeness; whatever Elizabeth may think.

The nerves of that bloody homewrecking toff to ask her to stay for lunch!

Demelza clenched her fists until her hands were drained of blood and she felt sure her nails had left marks on the inside of her palms.

She couldn't go back in.

She made her way to her car. Stepping into the driver seat, she fastened her seatbelt, ready to leave. There was no reason to put herself through more of this. She wiped at her cheek, ridding herself of one more traitorous tears, as she started the engine. Demelza adjusted her rear-view mirror when something caught her eyes. A toy rabbit was sprawled face-down on the backseat of her car, its two arms folded against its back.

Boom Boom.

She paused at the realisation, taking a deep shaky breath. She let her shoulders drop. She was so very tired.

Demelza stopped the engine and unfastened her seatbelt. She couldn't drive off. She reached out and grabbed the toy. Jeremy would be looking for him tonight. He couldn't sleep without it.

She held the bunny in front of her. Boom Boom stared back at her with its two vacant eyes, its long ears hanging down its side, its head slightly tilted.

She remembered when Boom Boom had been brand new. She had bought it shortly after she left the hospital. Jeremy had been a week old at the time. Ross had been forced to leave them for an emergency meeting at work. Debts were accumulating on their door in those days, and he couldn't afford to miss any meetings. She knew things were not going well at the factory, but part of her had been disappointed to see him go so quickly after Jeremy was born. She had known that he hadn't wanted another child, but she had hoped that once their son was there, Ross would take an interest.

He hadn't been a monster of course. He had come to visit her at the hospital. He had held Jeremy and smiled at him. He'd even joked about her naming their son after a Labour party MP to curse him to a life of British politic. But all the while, she could feel that he wasn't truly there, that he was putting on a show for her benefit. It hadn't been that way with Julia.

With their first born, Ross' excitement had been palpable. There was nothing he wouldn't have done for the two of them. Her ex had spent most of the month following their daughter's birth closeted in their bedroom, watching their child every move as if every little kick of her feet, every little mewing sound she made, every little movement of her lips was an absolute miracle.

On the day of Julia's birth, Ross had surprised them both with gifts. For Demelza, he had bought a new pair of pyjamas for her to lounge in at home. He told her that he had to try to get her to rest by any mean possible, even bribery. For their daughter, Ross had bought a honey coloured bear, almost as big as Julia herself. Demelza had shaken her head and told him their child was much too small to play with any toys, but she'd been pleased, so happy to see him fawn over their little girl. The bear had always stayed in their baby's crib. These days, she kept it on her dresser. She couldn't give it away.

For Jeremy, Ross hadn't bought anything. His mind had been on so many other things, and truth be told, they couldn't afford brand new toys for their son.

So, a week after her baby was born, Demelza had driven into town with Jeremy and bought her son a stuffed toy. She had found the bunny at a thrift store for one pound. It hadn't been a hand-crafted German bear like Julia had had, but it had been something just for him, something to let him know he was special, he was wanted.

Lately, the old rabbit had become her son's favourite toy. She couldn't drive away without giving it back to him.

Getting out of the car, Demelza made her way back to Trenwith's main door. Ross hadn't locked it behind him, and she was able to slip back in. Once inside, she made her way to the dinning hall, following the muffled sounds of voices and silverware.

Elizabeth was sitting at the head of the table, her feet propped up on a chair to her right. Her ankles must have been swollen by her pregnancy.

Geoffrey-Charles was sitting to her left, eating his plate of vegetables with more grace and dexterity than was natural in a five-year-old boy.

On the other hand of the table with his back to Demelza, Ross was feeding an uncooperative Jeremy. The toddler was pushing the fork his father was holding up to him with loud protests.

"No! No! No!" Jeremy turned his head away.

"Just a few bites for your papa," Ross pleaded with him.

"No!"

"You can't have your pudding if you don't eat some of your plate," Ross explained, but his son only shook his head, closing his mouth shut.

"He only eats his vegetables if you melt some cheese onto them," she informed Ross who turned to look at her, obviously surprised to see her. Demelza swallowed hard, wishing she could be anywhere but here.

She saw him tense, a shadow passing over his expression. He dropped the fork into Jeremy's plate.

"Hello aunt Demelza," Geoffrey-Charles greeted her with a large grin.

"Hello Geoffrey-Charles," she greeted him back with less enthusiasm.

"I made my own book today," he told her, looking so much like his father that Demelza felt her heart give a small thud. "Do you want me to show you?"

"Perhaps another time," she answered, her voice unsteady. Francis' son had always been a charming boy, and she felt a bit sorry to disappoint him.

Geoffrey-Charles turned back to his plate, too polite to protest.

"I believe we still some have some brie leftover if you believe it will be suitable," Elizabeth interrupted from the other hand of the room.

Ross got up brusquely, grabbing Jeremy's plate in one hand.

"I'll go get it," he said.

"There's no need," Elizabeth told him. "Morwenna can take care of it when she comes back."

Ross sat back down seemingly annoyed.

"Look at what mama almost forgot in the car," Demelza told Jeremy brandishing the toy rabbit she had brought with her.

"Oh!" Jeremy opened his mouth wide with delight. "Boom Boom."

Her son lifted his arms, opening and closing his hands as if trying to grab at the air.

"Boom Boom," he repeated. She gave him the toy which he hugged to himself, putting one of the rabbit's ears in his mouth.

"I asked Morwenna to make you a plate to take home just in case you hadn't left yet." Elizabeth gave her a sincere smile.

Demelza kissed the top of Jeremy's head, tuning her out. This all felt too surreal to be true, like some kind of terrible joke she wasn't in on. Jeremy kissed her cheek and she let the feeling of peace of having her little boy close wash over her. She hugged him for a little while before letting him go.

"I'll see you on Monday, alright, my lover?" she told her son.

"No." Jeremy was playing absentmindedly with his toy without looking at her. She caressed his hair.

"No?" she asked. "I can't see you on Monday?"

"No." The child continued not to look at her.

Demelza nodded gravely. "Well, I hope you will change your mind by then because I'll miss you if I don't see you for a whole week."

Jeremy turned to her and giggled as if he had meant to play a trick on her. Demelza smiled back at him.

"I'll see you on Monday." She kissed him. "I love you as big as the sun."

She felt Ross turn to look at her, his gaze heavy.

Jeremy patted her cheek, and for the first time since she had stepped foot in Trenwith everything felt right.

Demelza righted herself ready to leave when she felt something grab her arm.

"I can drop him off on Monday," Ross said, his tone casual, but his grip firm enough to leave a bruise. "I can drive to Nampara."

"Dwight already agreed to pick him up," she answered, watching him flinch. Ross dropped her arm and looked away.

"Oh, here you are, Morwenna." Elizabeth said. "You can give the plate to Demelza to take home."

Sometimes during Demelza's goodbyes, Morwenna had walked back in carrying two plastic plates in her hands. The teenage girl walked up to her, holding the meal for her to take. Demelza stared at the plates.

For a moment, she thought about throwing them at Elizabeth's head. She pictured the other woman's face dripping with her own lunch, for once less than completely put together, but the satisfaction would be of short duration.

Demelza shook the thought away and turned to leave. She had said her goodbyes to Jeremy. She had done what a good mother should. There was no reason to stay any longer.

"Demelza, you forget your plate." Elizabeth tried to get her attention.

Demelza bit her tongue to keep the words in, as a powerful wave of pure disgust washed over her. She shot the other woman a look that left no question as to what she thought of her gift.

"Demelza is a very good cook. I'm sure she has no need for your leftovers," Ross said back without looking at either of them, an unmistakable bite to his words. He ate some of his own lunch without any enthusiasm.

Elizabeth pursed her lips, something like fury flashing in her eyes as she looked at him, before her expression changed, and her face contorted with pain.

"Oh." Elizabeth grabbed at her stomach with a grimace. In a moment, Ross was at her side.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his expression worried. He checked her over with his eyes as if he could discover the cause of her pain with one look and put one protective hand on her belly.

Demelza flinched.

"Just a little pain." Elizabeth patted his hand, her voice sounding much weaker than before.

"Do you need a doctor, mama?" Geoffrey-Charles asked, getting off of his seat to hug his mother.

"No, my darling." Elizabeth caressed her son's head.

Demelza walked out of the room without any of them noticing. She couldn't stand to watch anymore.

She felt her heart squeeze in her chest as she made her way to the entrance.

She cursed Ross under her breath, reminding herself of how much she hated him. Demelza wrapped her arms around herself as if the action could help her keep the pain out.

She walked to the door, barely noticing what was going on around her. Paramedics might come to pick up Elizabeth at that moment, she wouldn't notice. She wouldn't notice if that bloody cow lost her baby. Ross' baby.

Demelza swallowed a scream.

Hurriedly, she opened the main door, not bothering to close it behind her.

Outside, it had started to rain. Droplets fell on her skin, and she welcomed the cold. The wind was howling, its force so powerful she felt like it might blow her away.

She walked to her car and stepped into the driver seat. She tried to breathe, tried to stop her shaking.

She hated him, hated that he could make her feel so small.

Trembling, she put her keys in the engine. A sobs tried to make its way out of her lips. She didn't let it.

A/N: Thank you so much for all the wonderful reviews. You guys made my week. Hopefully, you all can forgive me for this chapter. Next one should be happier.


	7. Like a dreaming memory

Demelza was sitting on the beach by Nampara, basking in the warm summer air as she watched the waves crash against the shore. It was a perfect day to be out in the sun. The sky was a field of cornflowers without a cloud to mar its beauty, and a gentle sea breeze was blowing through the high grass surrounding the water, carrying with it the smell of the ocean. Nearby, Demelza could hear the sound of Jeremy's laughter as he ran along the shoreline.

"We should leave before it starts to rain," Ross said beside her.

She looked up at the bright blue sky above them, scrunching up her nose, momentarily blinded by the sun. There would be no storm.

She breathed in the salty air and wiggled her toes in the sand, enjoying the soft feel of it under her sole.

"It's not going to rain," she told him, stretching herself and feeling her muscles unwound. "Today's a perfect day."

Ross ran his hand through her hair, and she leaned into the sensation.

Her husband had taken off his shirt and was sitting next to her in an old pair of jeans that looked too big on him. She would have to talk to him about throwing them away.

Ross sighed. "It will rain, and we'll have to be ready," he insisted, pulling her to him.

"There won't be any storm today, Ross." She shook her head before resting her head against his heart, listening to its soft beat against his ribcage. "You're being silly."

Ross chuckled. "Have you mastered the powers of the weather then?" he asked her with a boyish grin. She gave him a playful swap on his shoulder in response. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprise if you even charmed the elements into doing your bidding."

She shook her head at his antics, and Ross leaned down to give her a kiss on the cheek, his mouth warm and wet as his stubble tickled her skin. Demelza couldn't help the giggle that escaped her lips.

"Well, perhaps I have," she told him, looking at him straight in eye, pinching her lips to keep herself from smiling. "Perhaps, I have abilities you're unaware of or maybe I can just take a look at the sky. Either way, you should know better than to contradict your wife."

"Indeed." Ross nodded gravely, his eyes twinkling with something that made her shiver. She knew that look.

Knowing that she had precious little time before her husband was up to some mischief, Demelza tried to untangle herself from him, pushing against his chest, but before she could move an inch, she felt his arms close around her. Her heart gave jumped in her chest, as a yelp escaped her mouth. Ross only looked down at her with a smirk. She grinned back at him. She would show him she was no frail damsel-in-distress. Not one to give up easily in front of a challenge, she tried to shove him away, only to find that he was holding her much too tightly for her to dislodge herself. She was trapped. Demelza gave a muffled grunt that only seem to make him smile harder, as she thumped her fists against his chest, trying to provoke him into loosening his grip.

"Let go of me," she demanded in a high pitch giggle.

"Never!"

She couldn't move away as he rolled them to the ground and chuckled at her vain attempts to get away. Demelza wiggled underneath him, but Ross didn't let go and she squealed like a child as he peppered her face with small kisses.

"Mama, Papa watch me!" their son called them, prompting both parents to sit up to look at him, embarrassed at having been caught. "Watch me, Mama, Papa!"

Jeremy was standing by the water, waving at them. With both feet in the water, the little boy looked happy, beaming as he stared at his parents.

Demelza waved back at him and straightened her hair, nervously.

"We are my lover," she said to him. The little boy jumped in excitement at having gathered their attention, water splashing under his feet. He didn't seem to have notice his parents' inappropriate behaviour.

Demelza gave a sigh of relief. "What do you want to show us?"

Jeremy pointed away towards the waves. "I can do it, mama!" he told her, staring at her with a look of pure determination. "I can beat it!" The child stood up straight and held his head up high as if to show that he meant what he said.

For the first time, she noticed that he was wearing his batman costume, and for a brief moment, she wondered why she had dressed him like that this morning.

Ross got up, shaking the sand off his pants and walked over to Jeremy, leaving traces of his footsteps on the beach.

Seagulls screamed in the distance, as the sun continued to bear down on them.

"Can you indeed?" Ross asked his son, kneeling down to look at him in the eye.

Jeremy nodded back at him. "I'm strong, papa."

The little boy contracted his biceps to prove his point, and Ross ruffled his hair with a fond smile. Demelza felt her heart contract at the picture father and son made. This is what she'd always wanted. Since the moment, she'd discovered she was pregnant with Jeremy, this was everything she had hoped for them. She hugged her knees to her chest as she allowed herself to enjoy the sight, a soft smile growing on her lips.

Jeremy puffed up his chest under his father's gaze, and she supressed a laugh, not wanting to wound her son's pride.

"You are very strong indeed." Ross nodded his approval. The child seemed to glow under his assessment.

Jeremy turned back to her with a grin. "I'll show you, mama."

Demelza stared back at him, confuse by what he meant, but her son only continued to smile at her. She smiled back at him. She was so lucky to have given birth to such wonderful little boy. Sometimes, she wondered what she had done to the universe to deserve being rewarded with such a sweet child.

"Show me what, my lover?" she asked. The child continued to grin, giving her no answer.

Something started to prickle at the back of her mind like a warning, and she shivered as the breeze turned cold.

There was a cloud on the horizon.

"I believe he can, don't you, Demelza?" Ross asked, getting up to look at her.

She frowned unsure of what to say, as she felt something cold grow in her gut, but before she could figure out what they were talking about, Ross had turned away from her, holding out his hand for Jeremy to take. The little boy took his father's hand in his as he looked up at him. Demelza saw their gaze lock, something passing between them that she couldn't read. Whatever they shared wasn't meant for her. The cold feeling in her gut continued to grow. Together, they turned their back to her, and she watched as they marched towards the water, the waves crashing against their feet.

Her heart stopped, watching them go. The feeling of peace she had felt a minute before slipping away like sand between her fingers.

The current was too strong and the waves too powerful. Jeremy kicked his feet against the waves, droplets falling around him. Ross laughed as they continued walking, completely unafraid. Her stomach knotted.

"Come back!" she called them, springing to her feet. "Judas, Ross come back!"

They continued on, not listening to her calls. The water now reaching her husband's torso.

"Come back!" she screamed rushing to the water.

She dove in without a second thought, fighting against the oncoming waves. She couldn't lose them, couldn't lose her son's beaming smile or Ross' wet, tickling kisses. She couldn't lose her whole world like this. Not again.

The water felt strangely warm as she swam against the current, waves threatening to submerge her. Her lungs filled with water as she tried to fight them off, until it became hard to breathe.

If she only could reach them…

Demelza looked around for Ross and Jeremy, but she couldn't see them anywhere. A feeling of wild panic took hold of her as she continued to swim, lifting her head as high as she could to find them.

There were no traces of them anywhere.

She gulped for air, her panic growing, as she continued swimming.

They'd vanish.

She continued looking around her, refusing to give up. She couldn't lose them, not now, not ever. It wasn't possible. Her life couldn't go on without report cards to hang on the fridge, without pillow talks, and family dinners.

"No, please, no." She tried to swim deeper into the water but found that she could not. The waves were too strong, and her legs felt as heavy as lead. It became difficult to move.

"Jeremy!" she screamed. "Jeremy!"

She couldn't find him. Her heart beat at a gallop in her chest, as she continued screaming.

"Julia!"

Demelza woke with a start.

Momentarily confused, she looked around herself.

She wasn't home, she realised, staring at the white walls around her. This wasn't her room.

Demelza tried to calm her breathing, as the memory of the night before came back to her. Jeremy was sick and Ross had offered her his room so she could stay with them for the night. She hadn't slept at Nampara.

She rubbed at her eyes to chase away the tears that had gathered there. For a moment, she laid on the bed and just breathed, rubbing her own arms in a soothing manner, until she felt her heartbeat slow down.

Her son's illness was weighting on her, bringing back old fears that would never stop haunting her. Julia had been gone for seven years now, but sometimes, it still felt like yesterday since that day in February.

Shaking her head, Demelza sat down on the bed and looked at the darkness around her. She couldn't hear anything, but the sound of the old timey clock in Ross' hallway ticking away the hours.

Outside her bedroom's window, the sky was still pitch dark. There was no moon tonight to give any light.

She blinked to chase away the remainder of sleep. She couldn't have been asleep for more than a couple of hours.

She looked down at the bedside table. The digital clock sitting there read 3:07.

Demelza yawned. It was too early to wake. The sun wouldn't be up for several hours, but she couldn't go back to sleep just yet.

Jeremy coughed, the sound loud and harsh enough to reach her ears, and something cold gripped at her heart. She needed to see her child, needed to feel his skin against her own, to hear his voice, to see him breath.

Pushing her sheets to the side, Demelza got out of bed, shivering at the loss of warmth.

The door of Ross' bedroom creaked as she opened it. She paused, listening for signs that anyone had heard her, but the flat remained silent. All she could hear was her own breathing. She relaxed and stepped forward into the hallway.

The wooden floorboard of Ross' place felt cool under her uncovered feet, as she made her way down to Jeremy's bedroom. She tried to be as quiet as possible, but the floor cricked and groaned under the weight of her steps. Demelza was relieved when she reached her son's door without waking anyone.

The child's bedroom was as dark as the rest of the flat, the air inside reeking of sickness. Jeremy was awake when she walked in, lying on his side, looking miserable. One of his pillows had fallen on the floor by his feet, and his bedsheets were in a tangled mess wrapped around him. He couldn't be comfortable.

The little boy sat up and blinked back at her when he noticed her.

"Mama?" Jeremy asked with a sniffle. His face looked flushed and his voice sounded hoarse. He was still feverish, Demelza thought, feeling something tighten around her chest.

"Yes, my lover," she answered, closing the door behind her, and turning on the light. "How are you feeling?"

Her son gave a little sob that broke her heart as she rushed to take him in her arms, covering him in kisses. Jeremy clung on to her, his grip too frail and weak for her liking. Demelza held on to him, relishing the feel of him, warm and solid against her.

He continued sniveling, and Demelza checked his forehead to feel for his fever. He still felt much too warm under her touch.

She reached for the thermometer Ross had left by the bed, pressing the on button and shaking the object in the air as she waited for it to start working.

"Open up my lover." Demelza held up the thermometer to Jeremy's mouth, waiting for him to open his mouth so she could slip it under his tongue. The child obeyed, and Demelza let him go with a kiss to his brow, so she could rearrange his bed. He would be more comfortable if his room was tidy. She busied herself fluffing his pillow and rearranging his sheets while she waited for the thermometer to finish its calculation.

Once she was done, Jeremy laid back on his pillow and closed his eyes, his breathing laboured. Demelza started to think of the fasted way to get him to a hospital if his temperature had gone up. She would need to wake Ross so he could help her get Jeremy inside her car. Her son could lie down on the backseat, she would simply need to bring his pillow and blanket with them to keep him comfortable. Of course, Ross would need to stay to keep an eye on Valentine. She'd have to drive there alone.

The thermometer beeped, and Demelza took it out of her son's mouth with a trembling hand, bracing herself for the worst.

Looking down at the object in her hands, she felt her breath catch as she read the black digital numbers that flashed in front of her eyes.

37.6.

She read the numbers again, her hands shaking, and let out a sigh. His fever was slightly down from earlier. Her shoulders dropped.

Jeremy started coughing, the sound dry and piercing, his face contorting in pain.

He would need some more NyQuil, but he would be alright. Demelza gave a silent thank to the universe, as she rubbed her son's shoulder.

She would need to give him something pleasant to drink with his medicine, she reflected, or he would refuse to take it. Jeremy would protest anyway, of course, but it would help.

"I am going to brew you some tea to take with your medicine," she told him, caressing his hair. Jeremy scrunched up his nose at the mention of the syrup. "What kind of tea would you like?"

The child's expression turned serious as he thought of his answer. Demelza tucked him in, making sure he was properly covered as she smoothed the linen over his chest. Jeremy kicked one feet from under his sheets, and she leaned down to give him a kiss on the cheek before walking over to the door.

"Lemon, please," he finally answered, his voice still raspy. The tea would sooth his throat, she thought as she opened his door.

"Lemon, it is," she said, shutting down the lights. "I'll be right back."

Demelza stepped out of the room, closing the door behind her, and made her way to Ross' small kitchen.

In the living room, she found her ex-husband asleep on the couch. Ross was half covered by a white sheet, his head resting on a matching pillow, his mouth half opened as he breathed in and out.

Demelza felt her stomach twist as memories of her dream came back to her. Of course, that hadn't meant anything, a mix of dream and memory, nothing more, but the thought of that moment on the beach was enough to shake her. He had felt so real. She could still feel his breath on her skin, the softness of his lips on her face, the coarseness of his stubble as he…

Ross gave a little snore, and she shook her head at her own silliness. It would do her no good to dwell on dreams.

Demelza tiptoed her way to the kitchen. She would have to take the electric kettle to her room, or the noise would disturb Ross.

In the kitchenette, she took out what she needed as quietly as possible, setting out the tea bag, honey jar, spoon and mug on the countertop before she filled out the kettle, praying that Ross wouldn't hear.

She would need to make two trips, she realised. She couldn't take everything with her, not without a tray, and she had no idea where he kept his or if he even owned one.

Demelza took the kettle with her, quickly making her way back to the living room, when she noticed Ross shiver. His sheet was wrapped around his middle, leaving his torso and shoulders exposed. She stopped in her tracks. He would catch what Jeremy had that way.

Setting down the kettle on the coffee table, she approached the couch to cover him up. As gently as she could, she attempted to lift his sheet over his shoulders without waking him. The task proved more difficult than expected, however, and Demelza found that if she wanted to keep him warm, she would have no choice but to yank on the cover to dislodge it from under his middle. She paused and bit on her lower lip. She would have to be quick. With soft fingers, she took hold of one hand of the linen, and in one smooth move, she pulled, using all of her strength.

She barely had time to yank when she felt something grab her arm, making her lose her balance. Demelza pitch forward, barely managing to hold on to the side of the couch to keep herself from falling over, the sheet slipping from her fingers.

Ross was holding on to her arm, tugging her towards him in a powerful grip, his eyes wild and bewildered. For a few seconds, he stared at her, obviously confused, before he let go of her arm, his hand reaching to tangle itself in her hair instead.

"Jeremy?" he asked, his voice drowsy.

"He's alright," she whispered. She saw him breath a sigh of relief. "I was just making him tea for his throat. You can go back to sleep."

"What time is it?" Ross' hand massaged her scalp for a moment before he let it drop to his side as he sat up on the couch.

He rubbed his eyes and ran a hand through his own hair, looking rumpled and sleepy in a blue t-shirt and boxer.

"It's past three," she answered, shuffling her feet. "The sun won't be up for several hours yet."

"Hmm." He looked at her with a frown, blinking several times, as he muffled a yawn. "Why are you up?"

"Nothing important," she answered, but Ross gave her a sceptical look.

She sighed.

"Bad dreams," she admitted.

There was something disarming about standing in front of a sleep-tousled Ross in the middle of night. It felt almost like stepping back in time, back to the days when they'd shared secrets in the safety of their bedroom, their head resting on the same pillow. In those gone-by days, she would often wake him up in the middle of the night, just so she could tell him all about her nightmares. The specter of her father had still been looming large over her subconscious back then. She remembered how Ross would open his arms so she could lie across his chest and relate to him all the grisly details of her dreams. No matter how tired he was, her husband would always listen to her as she bared her soul to him, softly rubbing her back until she fell back to sleep. She used to feel so safe right there in his arms.

Demelza shook herself out of her reverie and looked towards the kitchen, eager to make her exit. That was all past.

"What was it about?" he asked her, his voice still rough from sleep, but his eyes soft as he looked up at her. She almost felt like telling him. It would feel so good to unburden herself to him like she used to, to have him hold her until she fell back to sleep. She bit her tongue to keep the words in.

"It was just a silly dream." She waved off his concern. "I'm alright, now. I should take care of Jeremy's tea."

Demelza started to turn away to gather the kettle, when she felt Ross get up with a groan.

"I'll do it," he said, looking much too pale and tired to be awake right now. He needed to go back to bed. His weekend with his sons had obviously taken its toll on him.

She shook her head at him, pushing him back towards the couch. "No, you go back to sleep. You need to save your energy for Jeremy tomorrow. I'm sorry I woke you up."

"I wasn't sleeping," he said, but he sat back down on the couch and yawned. "Not deeply in any case."

Demelza pinched her lips to keep from smiling at his denial. He was such a child sometimes.

Noticing that his sheet had fallen off the couch, she bent down to gather it. She had woken him to keep him from getting cold after all. She might as well tuck him in.

Demelza felt Ross' eyes on her as she leaned down, stretching her right arm towards the floor. His gaze felt insistent as he watched bend over to pick up his sheet, and blood rushed to her cheeks when she realised what she must look like with her ass up in the air, in only his shirt and boxer. She righted herself quickly, dropping the sheet onto the couch, her face aflame.

Ross was openly staring at her legs.

Demelza cleared her throat. "You need the rest," she said to break the mood, but he didn't seem to hear.

Ross did not drop his gaze, making no attempt to pretend that he was not, in fact, ogling her. Her stomach lurched. She knew she should feel indignant at his blatant scrutiny. She should leave with her head held high to let him know that he had no right to look at her that way, but she remained where she was. Something in her keeping her from moving.

She watched as his eyes slowly traveled up her legs, his gaze moving from the tip of her toes all the way up to the aim of her shirt, lingering on the space between her tights. There was something dark and familiar in his eyes. She licked her lips, her mouth strangely dry.

His hands flexed at his side, attracting her attention. For a second, her mind wondered if they would feel the same, if his hands would still feel rough and rugged on her flesh as they did back then. Her pulse sped up as she allowed herself to imagine…

As if finally realising what he had been doing, Ross turned his head away, breaking the spell. Demelza felt her stomach drop.

She adjusted her shirt, tugging it down to cover more of her flesh. She was no better than that little girl playing dress up in his mother's gown.

"You never told me what his name was," Ross said, his tone was casual, but she noticed that his eyes were avoiding hers.

"Who?" she asked, her voice cracking on the word. She racked her brain trying to remember if they had been talking about someone, flushing at the realisation that she couldn't remember what they had been discussing.

Ross still avoid looking in her direction.

"Your date," he said.

Her eyes widen.

She felt the blood drain from her face at the realisation that she had forgotten about Hugh. All it had taken was for Ross to look at her legs with something less than innocent lurking behind his eyes, and she'd forgotten all about her boyfriend, the man who had been nothing but supportive and understanding to her, who bought her flowers and took her out to fancy dinners.

She was no better than Elizabeth, no better than a tart, lusting after a man who wasn't hers while the man who belonged to her did nothing to merit it. Hugh deserved so much better from her.

Demelza blinked a few times, confused. It was the middle of the night, and Ross wanted to discuss her boyfriend.

"I can't see why you would want to know," she answered, honestly perplexed. Hugh was none of his concern. It wasn't as if they'd ever before shared details of their romantic lives over tea like two gossiping teenage girls.

"Is it serious?" Ross was staring towards the living room window, his expression calm and placid. Yet, something in his tone made the hair at the back of her neck stand up.

She blinked back at him, trying to find a way out of this conversation. This was all too intimate for them to talk about. There was no reason for her to discuss Hugh with him. That was private and belonged only to her. She crossed her arms and cleared her throat.

She thought she saw Ross glance at her from the corner of his eyes, but he did not turn to face her.

"That's no one's business but my own and his," she told him, trying to sound firm, but she was mortified when her voice came out sounding breathy.

Ross clenched his fist at his side, and she shook her head at his arrogance. He had no reason to be angry with her. He had forfeited the right to know anything about her life long ago.

Ross' shoulders sagged, the anger seeming to drain from his body just as quickly as it had entered it. She watched as he swallowed a lump in his throat before he turned to finally meet her eyes.

"As Jeremy's father, shouldn't I be kept informed of any potential step-fathers?" he asked, his tone deceptively reasonable, the words reverberating in her ears like a slap.

Her arms dropped to her side, her mouth widening like a fish looking for air.

"Judas Ross!" she shouted at him.

She felt her cheek grow red, the blush spreading all the way down to her neck

The thought of marriage…It was much too early. Hugh and her! Judas, stepfather!

And the nerve of Ross, to ask her that. To use Jeremy like that! She clenched her teeth. As if being Jeremy's father gave him any right to…

Ross looked down at his feet.

"Fine, then as your friend, is it serious?" His voice sounded much smaller then, and the sound tugged at her heart strings. She cursed herself for her weakness. He would always have that power over her.

Demelza exhaled, her nerves still rattled.

Were they friends?

She hadn't thought of him in those terms in years, but yet, here she was, preparing dinner for him and his sons, tucking him in in the middle of the night. Friends was as good a term as any for what was happening between them.

She looked at him, sitting on the couch, barely able to meet her eyes, looking so vulnerable and exposed that she did not have the strength to hold on to her indignation.

Demelza shrugged, pulling at a string that had come undone on her shirt, before dropping her hand to her side.

"Hugh and I have been seeing each other for a few months," she finally told him, something that felt too much like guilt gnawing at her stomach. There was no reason for her to feel guilty.

She saw his muscles tense.

"I see." He continued to stare at his feet.

The atmosphere felt tick and heavy between them. Demelza shuffled her feet, fidgeting with her hands at a loss as to how to lighten the mood. Yet again, something had shifted between them, but she couldn't figure out what. It wasn't as if Ross had any reason to care who she dated. They'd been over for years. Besides, he hadn't exactly been living the life of a monk since then. He couldn't have expected her to remain as chaste as a nun for the rest of her life.

Ross remained silent, and she swallowed hard, as the air around them seemed only to grow more suffocating with each minute that passed.

"I should really get back to Jeremy," she said, turning away from him.

She picked up the kettle from the coffee table.

"You don't mind if I make some noise for a minute?" she asked him, more to fill the silence then anything, but Ross didn't seem to hear her.

He looked a million miles away, staring down at the floor with a scowl. She couldn't imagine what he must be thinking.

Demelza busied herself making Jeremy's tea, never once turning to look at him.

By the time, she made her way back to her son's room, Ross was asleep or at least, he was lying down with his back to her. His shoulders looked a bit hunched, and he appear suspiciously tensed for someone who had given in to Morpheus' charms, but he didn't turn when she passed him by.

"Goodnight," she whispered to him in case he was still awake. For a moment, she stared at his silhouette huddled on the couch, almost dreading his answer, the butterflies in her stomach betraying another sentiment. Demelza paused in the entrance to the living-room, Jeremy's warm cup of tea resting in her hands, waiting for his voice in the darkness.

She was only met with silence.

A/N: Thank you for all the kind comments. For those that wanted some jealous Ross, well there you have him. I don't know if it'll be satisfying. Jealousy is at its base insecurity. I always find the reality of it rather sad. But here you go, Demelza got to witness Ross feeling jealous of Hugh, not that she really got that he was jealous or really wanted to get that that was what it was when it comes down to it, but that's just Demelza being thick, almost on purpose.

To my Italian readers (there's a lot of you for some reason which is super cool): Grazie per tutti i vostri commenti.

I have no idea if I said that right, I'm French, not Italian, but it's the thought that counts.

The next update might take a bit more time. The next few weeks promise to be very busy for me, but chapter 8 will come this month, never fear.


	8. Farewells so hurriedly taken

_Four and a half years ago_

The walls of the waiting room were painted an almost obnoxious lime green. The colour was cheerful and bright, and Demelza couldn't help staring at it, wondering if whoever had chosen that particular tinge had thought it would put people in a better mood. The last thing she was feeling was cheerful.

It was an early Thursday morning, and Demelza was fidgeting on an uncomfortable plastic chair, waiting for her mediation session to begin. She was there early; the session would not start for another half an hour. She had wanted to make sure that she was there on time.

They would be signing the papers today.

Demelza swallowed the lump in her throat as she watched the clock by the mediator's office. She'd been there for ten minutes, but it already felt like hours.

She just wanted this to be over. It had been months since Ross had gone to Elizabeth, and not a day had gone by without Demelza thinking about it. She'd been having trouble getting some sleep since that night, the thought of her husband enjoying the delicate charms of his mistress keeping her awake.

Demelza tapped her feet, her heels loudly clicking against the wooden floor. She had chosen to wear pumps, something she rarely did, and she felt a bit out of place in them. She had bought the shiny, black pair of shoes years ago, after she'd turned eighteen. Back then she'd planned to wear them in front of Ross, hoping that they would make him see her as a grown and desirable woman. She'd needed him to know that she was no longer a pubescent child. Not that her husband had noticed her efforts. He'd been too busy pinning after his lost love.

The shoes had been sitting in the back of her closet, collecting dust for years. She hadn't put them on since before she was married, but it seemed important to wear them for this.

Demelza opened her purse, reaching in to find her lipstick, wanting to apply a fresh coat to her lips. Finally locating the tube at the very bottom, she took it out, taking the top off to apply some to her lips.

She'd chosen to wear her brightest red shade of lipstick this morning. It always made her feel a bit self-conscious. She didn't like to attract too much attention, not usually, except that she wanted him to notice her today.

She knew that she didn't look herself just then, but she didn't want to be herself. She wanted to be someone like Elizabeth, a sophisticated woman of the world, someone Ross could respect. Demelza adjusted her black skirt over her knees, making sure it looked perfectly straight.

Would he even notice what she looked like? Would he care after Elizabeth?

The office phone rang, the sound making her jump. The secretary picked up the receiver, swinging her smooth brown curls to the side as she brought it to her ear. The young woman answered with a cheerful "Cornwall Family Mediation. Lauren Jones speaking. How can I help you?"

Demelza shook her head and tried to focus on something else than her husband and his infidelities. Not that it ever worked.

She would need to go grocery shopping after it was over. She was out of fresh vanilla, and she'd need some to bake Jeremy's birthday cake. Her baby would turn two years old in four days. They would celebrate, no matter how she was feeling.

She wouldn't invited Ross.

Demelza uncrossed her legs and crossed them again. Her palms felt sweaty as she wrapped her hands around the edges of her seat.

Ross would be arriving soon. She felt her muscles tense at the thought.

If it had been up to her, she would have rather signed the papers at home and sent them to her lawyer, but Ross had insisted that they do it together. He'd threaten not to sign them if they did not, and Demelza had no doubt that he was telling the truth. He had made every step of this as difficult as possible for her so far.

"Very well." She heard the secretary say on the phone and she bristle at the woman's perky voice. "Your meeting on the 4th of November is confirmed. Can I help you with anything else?" The young woman paused to listen to the answer, observing her perfectly manicured nails as she waited. "Alright, thank you. Have a wonderful day. Goodbye"

The secretary hung up the phone on her desk and gave Demelza a polite smile.

"Are you sure you wouldn't like a cup of tea while you wait?" The woman asked with a sympathetic look. Demelza felt the lump in her throat grow larger.

"No, thank you," she answered, her voice meek and quiet. She hated the sound of it.

The woman gave her another polite smile and turned to her computer without another word.

Demelza felt thankful for the silence as she crossed her arms around her middle and looked down at the Persian rug by her feet, her eyes tracing the intricate design of it, the complex patterns of circles, flowers, and feathers. It didn't appear soft, but she knew it must have been expensive. Those carpets always were.

Its colour reminded her of the red dress Ross had bought her after their marriage, her mind always bringing everything back to him

She'd been pregnant and feeling as big and as graceful as a whale, when he'd surprised her with the dress. It was made of some kind of chiffon material that hugged her curves in a way that was more than flattering. She had loved that dress.

Demelza felt her eyes prickle. She batted her eyelashes, hoping to keep the tears at bay and sighed. She was tired of crying.

The clock read 9:45. It wouldn't be long now.

The actual filling of the divorce papers should be quick. They had already agreed on all the terms, all they needed was to sign.

It seemed so surreal. After all the years they'd spent together, after all they'd shared, all it took was a couple of signatures to make it all disappear.

Demelza felt something cold wrap itself around her heart.

The truth was that it had been over between them since May, perhaps even before that. This was just making it official.

She wondered when Ross and Elizabeth would finally reunite for good. Ross had told her that what was between him and his mistress was in the past, but Demelza questioned how long that would last. She didn't believe he would resist the temptation of his great love for very long once his bond to their family was severed. Her stomach twisted thinking about it.

Demelza turned towards the pile of magazine to her right, hoping for a distraction. They all seemed ancient, one of them advertising the royal wedding of prince William. She grimaced, putting that one at the bottom of the pile and picked an old issue on the London Olympics, flipping through its pages absentmindedly.

As she turned the pages of the magazine, looking at a picture of Tower Bridge with the Olympic symbol, she wondered where Ross would take Elizabeth for their honeymoon. The thought made her feel slightly nauseous as her mind conjured images of Ross and Elizabeth together. She saw them as they must have been that night a few months ago, tangled up in Elizabeth's sheets, whispering sweet nothing in each other's ears. Ross would have kissed the other woman's hair as she fell asleep, caressing her exposed shoulders like he used to do with Demelza.

He must have basked in the moment. It was everything he had always wanted. Demelza's tasted bile on her tongue. He hadn't given a thought to the wife waiting for him to come home. He'd told her as much.

Demelza felt her grip on the magazine harden, the pages becoming slightly crumbled under her hands. She took a deep breath. She couldn't stop thinking about it. No matter how long it had been, these sorts of images wouldn't stop torturing her.

She put back the magazine on the pile. There was no point in seeking distraction, not today.

Demelza shifted on her seat and looked back at the clock. Five minutes had passed.

The door to the office clicked opened. She turned her head towards the noise when she saw him come in.

Ross sprang into the room with all the force of a hurricane, slamming the door behind him loudly enough that she felt sure the office's next-door neighbours must have heard him. She should have expected him to be in one of his moods. Ross never liked not getting his way. Even now, when it was what was best for all of them, he couldn't be reasonable.

She felt his gaze land on her as soon as he stepped into the room.

Her husband seemed frazzled with his coat unbutton, his shirt partly untucked and wrinkled. His curls looked messy, as if he had run his hand through them several times, and he obviously hadn't bothered to shave in a few days.

For a moment, she worried that he wasn't taking care of himself. She shook the thought away. Surely, Elizabeth would be glad to look after him now.

Ross turned to stare at her, his expression turning dark, as his brow furrowed.

The secretary looked up from a paperwork with sour expression, less than please with Ross' grand entrance, but her tone was all politeness when she said, "Mr. Poldark, your meeting won't begin for another ten minutes. Can I offer you something to drink while you wait?"

Ross didn't even acknowledge her as he marched towards Demelza, his entire attention seemingly focused on her. Demelza was reminded of storm clouds approaching the shore.

"We need to talk," he told her. There was clearly no room for her to disagree.

Demelza sighed, she was tired of talking. That's all they'd been doing for months. Talking didn't fix anything.

"We've said everything that needs saying," she told him, glancing in the direction of the secretary who had enough tact to pretend not to hear them as she filled up paperwork on her desk. Of course, Ross wouldn't mind airing their differences in front of a complete stranger. He'd never given a damn what people thought of them.

Ross plucked the plastic chair next to Demelza's in one hand, lifting it and settling it in front of her, before sitting down, uncomfortably close to her. She shifted her knees to the side, trying to avoid touching his.

Ross fixed her with his eyes, something infinitely tender in his gaze that contrasted with the tension in his body. Demelza looked down at her lap. He always did this, played with her love for him to get her to concede to whatever he wanted. But not this time. She couldn't allow him.

"But you haven't listened," Ross reproached her, his tone soft as he reached to hold the hands she had folded on her lap. She stared at his large hands covering her own for a few seconds, feeling her heart give a painful tug. This was all too much. She tried to pull herself away, but he hung on.

"No, you need to listen," he continued with something like desperation. "We don't have to go through with this."

Her head snapped back to look at him, her guts churning.

"Yes, we do," she told him. They needed to do this. They couldn't keep on living a lie. She wouldn't permit it. She had done so for far too long already.

"No, we don't." He sighed, squeezing her hands in his grasp, his eyes never leaving hers. "I love you."

She snorted, looking away. She just couldn't bear to hear him say this one more time.

"I do," he nearly barked back, his temper flaring. She felt her own ire grow. She was so weary of being second-best.

She was even more weary of being expected to be grateful for it.

"So, you love me now," she said, and she was glad that even though she felt her nerves shaking, her voice came out clear and sure. She went on, staring directly into his eyes, her gaze hard. "That's lovely. For how long do you imagine that will last? Until Elizabeth decides she needs you again? When will that be, do you think? Next month? Next year?"

"Elizabeth and I are over," he assured her as he had done before, but Demelza only shook her head at his denial.

"When she has your child?" she continued, her words laced with all venom she could muster. She took a vicious kind of pleasure in seeing him flinch.

"Demelza!" he warned her. But she was sick of dancing around the topic of Elizabeth, sick of his lies. Maybe if he had more honest with them all from the beginning, things might have turned out differently.

"Don't pretend like it doesn't matter," she pushed back. "Elizabeth is going to have your baby in a few months. What are you going to do then?"

"I…" Ross floundered, looking a bit flushed. He let go of her to run his hand through his hair. She stared him down, knowing that he couldn't give her an answer, at least not any answer that would satisfy them both.

"What will you do?" she repeated.

"I don't know!" he spat back, leaning back against his seat. He inhaled and exhaled as he rubbed his temples. For the first time, she noticed the dark circles under his eyes.

"Well, I do." Her shoulders dropped. "I know I don't want to live like this anymore."

"This…this baby..." He fished for words, seemingly lost. "It doesn't mean…" She saw his shoulders slump as he looked at her. "I love you."

He blinked, and Demelza saw tears in his eyes. She dropped her gaze, her heart squeezing painfully in her chest.

"I know," she said because she knew he did in his way, but it was not the kind of love she wanted from him.

"Then you must know that I would never deliberately hurt you." Ross leaned in closer to her.

"I do."

She couldn't look at him. He didn't realise that that made it worst. It would have been easier to think that his night with Elizabeth was born from a desire to punish his wife from some offence. Even his hatred would have been better than this. Anything but to be an afterthought.

Demelza glance at the secretary who was writing something on her computer, seemingly completely undisturbed. The woman more than likely had heard her fair share of couple's dispute. This probably was nothing she hadn't seen before. There was something comforting in that thought.

"Yet you still want to go through with this?" Ross asked Demelza, something wounded in his eyes, his face grey and tired. She felt the usual urge she had to sooth him, to fix everything for him, but there was nothing to fix.

"Yes," she answered, her voice soft as she played with her skirt.

"But you're my wife?" His brow creased as if the thought that she might not want to remain such was too foreign to entertain.

She could easily understand his confusion. There had been a time when being his wife had meant everything to her. She had thought that it always would, that she could be content sharing his heart with another, knowing that she was the one that held that sacred title. She'd been wrong.

"That's not enough for me anymore," she told him. She knew the words would hurt him and some part of her felt sorry for it.

Demelza watched Ross flounder for a minute, his mouth opening and closing like a fish trying to draw breath, his faces becoming flushed.

After a moment, he seemed to gather himself as he squared his shoulders and turned up his chin.

"I won't go through with it," Ross said, and the pity she had felt for him before vanished. "I won't sign. I won't let you throw away everything over…"

"Won't let me throw away everything?" She snorted, her tone rising. "Funny, I didn't realise that your leaving me for Elizabeth was my throwing away our marriage."

She couldn't believe that he would have the nerve to put their divorce on her after what he had done. Her hands closed around her skirt as she squeezed the material like she wished she could have done his neck. After being unfaithful to her in minds if not in deeds for the entirety of their marriage, he would now accuse her of giving up on their marriage. He had broken his vows to her over and over again and he meant to accuse her. She felt herself shake with the power of her disgust.

"I did not leave you!" Ross spat back as he scowled at her. Demelza squeezed her skirt harder.

Even now, he couldn't be honest with himself. Him and his bloody sense of honour. He would rather stay married to her than admit to his own failing and be with the woman he truly loved. Anything but to face the fact that he was the kind of man who dreamt of his mistress' bed while his wife and child slept next to him.

Demelza took a large breath to try to calm herself, and when she answered him, her voice came out clear and firm.

"You did." she said. "And I won't allow you to continue using me to hide how you really feel."

Ross blinked back at her as if she had said something completely mad.

"How do I really feel?" he asked her, or rather barked at her, but it didn't seem as if he expected an answer from her, or at least not an answer that he could agree with.

He would truly never stop with his denial. Demelza shook her head as she thought of how easier their lives would have been if he had found the courage to face his true feelings years ago. She exhaled loudly, letting go of her skirt, trying once again to smooth the material over her knees.

Ross continued to stare at her in disbelief. She met his gaze with her own resolute one. If he couldn't be honest with them both, she would have to be.

"You're in love with her," she answered. "You've been in love with her for years."

He had the decency to avert his gaze at this, staring down at his lap for a moment before he met her eyes once again.

"I did love her," he told her, and Demelza felt the usual stab at her heart at his admission. She had wanted his honesty but as always, she was finding that the truth was impossible for her to handle.

Ross continued looking at her, his gaze gentle and apologetic. Her stomach churned. How she hated to know that Elizabeth had his heart while she was to be content with his pity.

"I'm not denying that." Ross forged ahead, seeming bent on getting her to accept what should have been unacceptable. "I cannot change that. I didn't even know you when I fell in love with her. But that does not change the way I feel about you now."

Demelza sighed. She had never cared about the fact that she hadn't been his first love. Of course, when she had been a girl and she had first taken a fancy to him, she had allowed herself the odd fantasis about what it would be like to have been his first, his only. But she had been a child. She knew very well that Ross was older than her, that he had had a whole life before she came along. It was only to be expected that there had been other women, other love. She had never really minded Elizabeth being his first. What she had always feared, what had always haunted her throughout the entirety of their marriage was her conviction that the other woman would also be his last.

"Please, be honest," she told him, unable to mask her exasperation. His honesty wounded her, but she preferred it to having his words of love to her cheapened by lies. "If not with me, with yourself."

She saw Ross clench his fists, as he jumped out of his seat and started pacing around the room.

"I am honest!" He pointed an accusatory finger in her direction. "How am I not honest? You know I'm telling you the true. You said you knew."

Ross ran a hand through his hair again, his movement so brusque she feared he would tear it out. She straightened in her seat, addressing him in the most reasonable tone she could muster.

"I know that a love that survived for more than a decade didn't go away overnight," she said. "I know that you'll be a father again soon."

Ross shook his head as if he had never heard anything quite so silly. She grinded her teeth. He would not face the truth until it exploded in his face.

"I'm already a father," Ross asserted with one of his superior air that made her hand itch to slap him. "What about Jeremy?"

She felt her cheeks redden at his callous mention of their son. In the two years of Jeremy's existence, the child had never been but a passing thought in his father's mind, a responsibility that had to be taken care of. That Ross would affect to care so much for their son's welfare now that it was convenient to his denial made Demelza's blood boil.

She still couldn't understand why Ross had even wanted them to share custody of their son. He had never shown any interest in Jeremy before, and she feared that that interest wouldn't last very long, not with Elizabeth's baby on the way.

"What about him?" she asked, her tone warning him to be careful with his words.

But Ross didn't seem to care about her tone. On the contrary, her husband glared back at her with a cold, haughty look as he straightened to his full height.

"Doesn't he deserve to grow up in a home with both of his parents?" he asked her. "Shouldn't you be thinking about him, of his future over that of a child that is not your own?"

Of course, he would try to guilt her into doing what he wanted. Demelza's eyes narrowed as she felt something coil around her stomach.

"Don't tell me what our son deserves!" she sneered at him. In that moment, it didn't matter to her if the secretary or even if the whole bloody office could hear them arguing. They could all take notes because she wouldn't hold back. "Don't you dare use him like that!"

Ross pursed his lips, his nostrils flaring.

"I'm his father," he stated that fact as if she was the child he meant to scold.

She smiled for the first time that day, but there was no warmth in it, only a vindictive kind of malice that she had never known she could feel.

"I'm surprise you remember it." She gave a little laugh, the sound so cold that she felt sure the temperature in the room dropped. "I'm not sure he does either. He never asks for his papa."

She regretted the words as soon as they came out of her mouth.

Ross' eyes widen a little and he leaned back as if to recoil. His shoulders dropped as he looked down at his hands without saying a word, all the fight sucked out of him. They both knew he deserved what she'd said, he had never been around Jeremy enough for their child to notice his absence now, yet she couldn't help wishing that she could take it back. Ross turned his back to her, his gaze cast down as if he meant to hide himself from her. His shoulders hunched as he brought his hands in his pockets. After witnessing his wrath, Demelza felt surprise to see him looking so small.

She closed her eyes, her head aching with what she suspected was the beginning of a headache. This needed to end today. Neither of them could take much more of this.

She leaned down into her uncomfortable seat, wishing she could be home with her son, enjoying the day rather than here fighting and bickering over things that couldn't change. She opened her eyes. Ross hadn't moved, his back was still to her, his eyes examining the carpet with an intense kind of scrutiny.

Why couldn't he see that this was all for the best? They would both be so much happier if they could stop living like this. She was only doing what was necessary for them both.

She could hear the gentle clicking sound of the secretary tapping on her keyboard. The clock ticked. Their meeting would begin soon.

Demelza stared at her husband's hunched figure, her heart aching painfully in her chest.

"You said that you would sign the papers if I came today," she reminded him, her tone now gentle. She didn't want to hurt him, not truly. That wasn't why she was doing this. She watched him flinch, his figure seeming to become even smaller at her words. "You gave me your word."

"Demelza," he said, his voice breaking on her name, and the sound pierced her. She exhaled.

"You gave me your word, Ross," she reminded him once more. "Or are all your promises to me meaningless?"

Her words had the effect of a slap. He turned to look at her then, his face pale. She watched as he swallowed thickly but said nothing. There was nothing left to say.

"Mr. and Mrs. Poldark." The office's door opened and their mediator, a petite woman in her mid-40s with a thick head of bottle-blond hair, stepped out to call them in, motioning for them to come forward. Demelza sprung to her feet with a speed that surprised even her. She picked up her coat and flung her purse over her shoulder as she rushed inside the room. Something felt heavy in her chest.

Demelza sat down in one of the office's comfy chairs as the woman went to seat opposite her behind a large mahogany desk, folding her arms across it and giving Demelza a kind reassuring smile.

The office's walls were blue and decorated with a few framed diplomas and certificates. All around them stood several libraries well stacked with thick legal books with gold letter titles that seemed designed to be intimidating and in the right corner, Demelza could see a large bay window. It had started to rain outside and the sound of water hitting glass filled the room, as Demelza and the mediator stared at each other in polite silence.

Ross still hadn't come in.

"How are you today?" the woman asked, although Demelza was sure she must have heard their fight through the door of her office.

Demelza felt her headache grow. By the time she got home, she was sure that she would want to split her head open.

"Good," Demelza answered with a half-smile that did not reach her eyes. "And yourself?"

"I am very well." The mediator nodded as she spoke. "Thank you for asking."

Ross walked in, his movements stiff and curt. He did not say a word as he went and took the seat next to his wife, his featured marred by a large frown. The mediator only offered him the same polite smile she had offered Demelza. She was probably more than used to Ross' temper by now.

"Good morning to you both," the woman greeted them, opening a folder on her desk filled with a large stack of papers. Seeing their divorce papers perfectly laid out in front of her, ready to be signed, Demelza felt her heart jump in her throat. "I hope you are doing well, Mr. Poldark. Might I offer you both some tea before we begin?"

Demelza shook her head, finding it difficult to speak just then with her heart hammering painfully in her ribcage. Ross didn't bother answering, preferring to stare out the window, still scowling.

Demelza grimaced. Of course, he would make it all as difficult for her as he could to the very end.

"I know today won't be easy for anyone," the mediator went on as if Ross had answered her. "But I hope we can make it as comfortable as possible. If it is alright with you both I would like us to go over the details of the documents one last time before you both sign them, to make sure everyone is satisfied with the terms. Is it alright with you?"

Demelza nodded, plastering a smile on her face to compensate for Ross' rudeness as he continued to ignore everyone. Inside her stomach churned and she felt the hands she had folded on her lap tremble. She hated Ross for making everything so hard. Her eyes burned.

"Perfect," the woman continued as she looked down at the stack of divorce papers. "Then let us proceed. I want to start with the custody arrangements. You have both agreed to a shared custody…"

Demelza barely listened to the list of terms and conditions, only nodding when it was required. She had heard it all before, had discussed everything with her lawyer at length. Instead her focus turned back to Ross. She could only see his profile turned as he was towards the window. She watched him clench his jaw as his lips pursed. He would never forgive her for this.

"…a sum to be accessible to him upon his 21st birthday…" the mediator kept on talking, but no one was listening.

She couldn't forgive him either. Demelza's mind went back to that night in May. She had waited for him to come home, lying in their bed upstairs, her heart in a vice as she strained her ear, hoping beyond hope to hear the sound of his footsteps downstairs. She had waited for hours until Jeremy had cried out for her. The clock had read 4:54 and she'd stopped waiting. She had known in that moment, known what he was doing as she held their child in her arms, known that he wouldn't come home.

"…a fair divide of the assets…"

Ross' hands clenched and unclenched against his side as he stared at the rain falling outside.

It hadn't rained that early morning when she had driven Jeremy and her to the Bodmin Moor's Travelodge. There had been a chill in the air, but the sun had promised to shine brightly that day.

"…to be paid at the end of every month…"

She had thought that he would have called as soon as he got home to find them gone. He had not. Ross hadn't called until the sun had set, and she was getting Jeremy ready for bed in the hotel's cheap complimentary crib. Her husband had wanted to know where they were. He hadn't apologised.

She glanced down at her lap. Her skirt was creased from her earlier abuse. It would need to be ironed.

"I will need both of your signatures on these three pages as well as your initial here and here," the mediator interrupted Demelza's thoughts as she handed her a pen. Demelza took the offered object without thinking, holding it loosely in her grasp.

She felt Ross freeze next to her.

She looked down at the papers on the desk. The mediator had taken care to highlight the spot where they were to sign. All she needed to do was write her name a few times and she would be on her way to becoming a divorcé.

Demelza paused, staring at the pink highlight marks on the white official papers. It seemed so absurd that after all these years, all it took were a few scribbles to make it all disappear.

There wouldn't be another Sunday night for them.

It was ridiculous, but in that very moment, that's all that came to her mind.

Sunday nights had been their night or at least that had been true before his affair.

On Sunday nights, no matter how stressful the week promise to be, they would spend their evening together watching a film. She would put on her rattiest, most comfortable pyjamas and he would do likewise. She would prepare the least healthy snack she could make, and they would spend hours doing nothing but stare mindlessly at the screen or rather talk over whatever was happening on the screen. They had never managed to follow the plot of any of the films they'd watched on these nights.

They had started doing this before they even got together and continued long after. Even with Julia cuddled in between them.

It was stupid to think about cuddling on the couch with the man who had cheated on her right then, but for the first time the realisation that there really wouldn't be another Sunday night shook her. Some irrational part of her brain had always believed there would be.

Ross inhaled sharply beside her as she signed her name on the first line. She didn't turn to look at him.

She felt a tear run down her cheek as she continued writing her initials. She wiped it off.

Once she was done, she dropped the pen unto the desk. She didn't hand it to Ross. For some reason, she found that she couldn't. The mediator handed it to him instead.

Ross snatched the object from the woman's fingers. His face was devoid of any expression, his eyes inspecting the pages with cold and calculating stare.

If Demelza had thought he would take time signing the papers, that a sentimental part of him would delay their inevitable parting for as long as he could, she was sourly mistaken. Ross sped through the document, signing his name in all right places, not pausing to contemplate what he was doing, until at last he reached the last page of the divorce papers. Without anymore ceremony, he wrote his name in the last spot and it was done.

Just like that it was all done.

Demelza watched as he stared at their signature on the last page, his hand tightening around the pen as if he wanted to strangle it. His eyes didn't leave the page as he stared it down looking as if he wished he could tear it up and burn the remaining pieces.

She turned her gaze away, unable to look at him anymore. He would understand. One day he would be grateful for what they'd just done.

Ross continued to glare at their names on the page.

Demelza twisted the hands in her lap. Someday, they'd both be grateful for this.

He would be free to live the life he had always wanted without any guilt to hold him back, and maybe someday she could be happy watching him live that life.

She might even find love herself, not a love like she had for him, no love could match that, but still a love that was hers and hers alone.

Demelza tried to picture herself in a ratty pyjamas, singing over _The Sound of Music_ with someone else. The thought left a bad feeling in her gut. She couldn't have that with someone else.

"So that's it?" She heard Ross ask. She turned to look at him, feeling a knife lodge itself in her chest. His voice sounded so incredibly small. "After everything, we just…That's all, Demelza?"

She didn't have an answer for him as she watched him continue to squeeze the pen in his hand as he stared at their signatures. There was no good answer for this.

It was simply all for the best, she reminded herself.

For a moment, she thought she might throw up.

Ross slammed the pen down on the desk and pushed the papers towards the mediator like he was throwing away rubbish.

"Is that all you require of me?" he asked, his tone now glacial.

"That's all," the mediator answered with a nod. "Now, I will make a copy of these for both of your lawyers…."

Ross got up without waiting for her to finish speaking, his chair nearly toppling down as he stormed out the room. Demelza barely had time to blink before he was gone. He didn't even spare her a backward glance.

"Mr. Poldark!" the mediator called him back, but he didn't turn around. "Mr. Poldark!"

Demelza heard him slam the door to the waiting room behind him. She let him go.

A/N: I am sorry for the delay. I know some of you seemed worried that there wouldn't be a chapter 8 or that I was taking a lot of time with it. That's not a reproach on my part. I'm glad to know that there are people out there that are impatient for a new chapter. It's very flattering, and it does give me a kick in the ass to get some writing done that day.

I know it took a while. My personal life needed my full attention for a while. I hope the length of this chapter can make up for the long wait at least, even if it is kind of an angsty and long-winded chapter. Flashback chapters are going to be depressing for a while as we make our way back to Ross' affair. I can only apologise for how angsty these chapters will be. But you know, present day chapters should have some romance to compensate for that.

I also know that my way of writing can be confusing with all the flashback chapters. Honestly, this story was supposed to be a one shot. I had thought a lot about this universe, about what the reality of shared custody and divorce would be like for Ross and Demelza, and how they got there. I even imagined that they would get back together at some point, but I thought I would just write one scene from that universe and let that be it. Obviously, that did not end up being the case. But I realised that meant that I would need to actually let you guys experience the evolution of that alternate universe relationship for it to make sense. I thought flashbacks would be the best way to do that. But I realise that the constant jump in time can be confusing. I do follow a rule that I hope can make it a bit easier to follow though. Every odd chapter is a flashback chapter and flashback chapters are a count down to the start, meaning that we are turning back the clock in order. Each flashback chapter takes place before the last flashback chapter. We start flashback by seeing where the characters were a few months before the start of the fic, then three years, then four years, then four years and a half etc. I hope that can help keep things straight. Basically, if you read these chapters in disorder, you would get a straight timeline (chapter 8, chapter 6, chapter 4, and chapter 2 actually took place in that exact order). I'm sorry for how confusing that can get. I should almost write a timeline guide for this. I really didn't plan to write more than a oneshot.

I hope this chapter gave you guys more of an idea of how Ross felt about getting divorce. I know some of you had guessed it. It was not his idea at all, and he really didn't want to go through with it which might explain to you all also why he was so angry in chapter 6. He did try to stop it, but everything he said ended up being filtered through Demelza's insecurities (which to be fair he did help to foster), so nothing he said really hit its mark. That may also help you guys understand why present-day Ross is not as obvious about his feelings as he could be. It didn't work for him before. He has no reason to believe that it would now. Ross has his own insecurities and his own massive fear of rejection. Having his wife throw his love in his face and leave him didn't help with that. I mean he did mess up pretty bad, but still, he's only human and being dumped is hard on anyone, but perhaps especially on him (we can thank Elizabeth for that one).

I know that this fic lacks Ross' point of view. It is Demelza' story, but I promise that Ross' point of view will emerge. Demelza is not ready to hear him, and her insecurities are blinding her to a lot. So right now, all I can say is look at how he behaves rather than at how she interprets or ignores his behaviour. Ross will have his say at some point. The man can't hold himself back only for so long. But this fic is slow, and it focuses on Demelza's point of view which is not a completely accurate reflection of reality. I know it can be frustrating to wait to see what is going on with him though. It's just that I am a sucker for stories like _Pride and Prejudice, Persuasion,_ and _Gone with the Wind_ where the hero's every actions is filtered through the heroine's own flaws, so that everything takes a while to become perfectly clear. I promise we'll get there. It will just be slow. This story is already starting to be novel length.

Thank you so much for all the review. I love reading each and everyone of them. They really keep me going. I'll do my best to update sooner with chapter 9.


	9. More homelike than ever in the morning

"I'm hungry," a voice whispered closed to her ear.

Demelza cracked one eye open to see a mop of black curls leaning over her. For a moment, she blinked confused by the sight, her mind still occupied by dreams.

Valentine was standing next to her bed, hovering over her, his breath tickling her cheek, his face scrunched up in a frown. Her first thought was that the boy really took too much after his father.

Opening her eyes wider, Demelza took note of her surroundings. Light streamed through the window to Ross' bedroom. The flat was quiet. The sound of the little boy's breathing close to her ears was the only one she could hear. It must have been early morning.

Demelza buried her face in her pillow with a groan. Her body protesting being awake, a rare event for her who had always been in the habit of rising with the sun. Even as a teenage girl, she had never been one to lounge around in bed until noon, but this morning, she might have made an exception. She'd had such a hard time getting back to sleep last night.

"I'm hungry," Valentine repeated, a little louder this time.

She sighed. It was time to wake up. She had to drive home to change before work. She couldn't go back to sleep even if there hadn't been a hungry toddler staring at her.

"Give me a minute," she told him, her voice raspy as she turned onto her back and stretched her limbs, the sensation of her muscles tensing and releasing making her shiver.

"Where's papa?" the child asked her as he crawled onto the bed next to her, still frowning.

"Your papa slept in the living room, last night," she said, sitting up on the bed **.** She ran a hand through her hair in an effort to tame it. Even without the help of a mirror, she knew she must look a fright.

"Why?" Valentine cocked his head to the side, looking up from his position next to her knees.

"Because he gave me his bed so I could sleep over," she explained before covering her mouth to hide her yawn.

The toddler nodded as if the answer satisfied him.

"Now what do we say when someone just woke up?" she asked him with a pointed look.

The child looked up at her, his brow furrow, obviously confused by the turn in the conversation.

"We say good morning, Valentine," she greeted him, staring directly into his eyes.

The toddler's frown deepened as he looked down at the sheets covering her knees, seemingly annoyed. He was in no better mood than he had been the night before.

Demelza suppressed a sigh. She probably was not the only one that had had trouble sleeping last night.

Hoping to lighten the child's mood, she reached over to tickle him, rapidly running her fingers over his sides in a feather like touch, the sensation making him jump in surprise, a smile breaking across his face. She leaned forward as he tried to move away from her touch, not letting him go until he erupted in laughter.

"Stop!" he pleaded, but Demelza only tickled his neck in answer.

The boy squirmed, rolling himself into a ball trying to avoid her attack, as he laughed uncontrollably.

"Stop!"

"So what do we say?" she asked again, giving him her best evil smile as he squealed.

"Good morning," he answered giggling.

"That's better," she said, letting him go. "Now, let's see what we can do for breakfast."

Demelza pushed off her sheets, as Valentine jumped off the bed, running towards the bedroom door. The child was clearly famished.

"No running inside, Valentine."

The boy stopped in his track, looking at her with a pout.

"But I'm hungry," he whined.

"I know," she said, getting up and walking towards him. "But there are people that live in the flat below us. They don't want to hear you running on top of their head. Come on!"

She extended her hand for him to take as she opened the bedroom door. Valentine put his small hand inside her own. She felt his chubby fingers tighten around her palm. Together, they made their way towards the living room where they found Ross still sleeping on the couch. Her ex-husband was lying on his left side, his body turned towards the living room, his head no longer resting on a pillow, the latter having fallen to the floor sometimes during the night. Instead Ross was lying down, mouth open with a small trail of saliva falling on the bicep he was using as a make-shift cushion.

Valentine's eyes widen at the sight of his father, and he dropped her hand as he rushed towards him.

"Valentine, don't," she warned him, but the child didn't listen, and she could only watch as he jumped on top of his father's right hip.

Ross gave a groan, his eyes flying open as he looked around the room with a wild, confused look, until his gaze finally settled on the toddler lying on top of him.

"Good morning, papa."

Ross sighed, shifting until he laid on his back, Valentine kneeling on his stomach. Demelza held back a curse.

"Valentine, let your papa sleep," she said, shaking her head. The child turned to look at her with a stormy look, remaining where he was. She ignored him, turning to address Ross. "I'm sorry, we bothered you. You can go back to sleep."

"It's alright," her ex answered, his voice still groggy from sleep. "It's probably time for me to wake up anyway."

He ran a hand through his hair, making his curls stand up in a tousled mess of tangles around his head.

Valentine burrowed his face in his father's neck, announcing, "I'm hungry."

Ross blinked several times, shaking the remainders of sleep, as his arms came to encircle to boy in his arms, his hand drawing circles around the child's back.

"Hmm." Ross nodded, deposing a kiss on his son's brow. "What would like for breakfast?"

The child's eyes lit up at his question, the thought of food obviously exciting him.

"Eggs with cheese," Valentine answered.

Ross nodded again as he moved to sit up, letting out a loud yawn. His son jumped off the couch, running towards the kitchen to Demelza's dismay.

"I can take care of breakfast," she offered Ross. "You don't have to get up."

Ross turned to look at her with a scowl as he scratched his stubbled chin.

"Absolutely not. You took care of supper, the least I can do is take care of breakfast. I may not have your culinary skills, but I am still capable of making scrambled eggs, I assure you."

"I know that. I only meant…"

"You only meant for me to lay about while you took care of everything," he stated with a gentle smile, something tender in his gaze.

She shook her head at him. She heard the leather covering of the couch screech as Ross got up and made his way towards her. He moved to stand very close to her, his body masking the light from the room. She felt her cheeks redden at his proximity.

"You looked tired, that's all," she explained, looking down at her hands. "And you'll be with Jeremy all day so I thought…"

"I'm alright. But thank you. I appreciate the thought."

"Papa!" Valentine called from the kitchenette.

"Coming," Ross answered as he made his way towards him.

"I should check on Jeremy," she said.

Ross nodded.

"Tell me if he's hungry. I can make some beans with sausages when he's ready."

"I'll tell him." She gave him a small smile which he returned with one of his own. Her heart gave a little tug at the sight.

"Papa!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Ross answered, giving her an apologetic look before following his son to the kitchen.

Demelza turned away from them, making her way to Jeremy's room. There, she found her son still asleep, curled up in a ball in the middle of the bed, his covers once more on the floor.

She bent down to gather them, shaking them back into shape, the sound of the sheets unfolding ringing loud in the quiet room.

Morning light filtered through the curtains. She could hear Ross grilling eggs on the stove, over in the kitchen, the gentle sound of fat cooking over the fire filling the flat; Valentine laughed at something his father said. Demelza worried that the sounds of the flat waking would disturb Jeremy, but her son did not steer.

She laid the covers over him, feeling his forehead for his temperature. The boy's skin still felt too warm over her touch, but he did not feel as hot as he did the night before.

She let out a sigh of relief, thoughts of Julia's burning skin running through her mind once again.

She ran a hand in Jeremy's curls. The child's hair felt slightly damp with sweat. Leaning over she dropped a kiss on his forehead before making her way to the door, allowing him to continue to rest.

Closing the door behind her with gentle click, she walked back towards Ross's bedroom to shower.

"George said no, but mama said I can go when I'm bigger. And we can go with Geoffrey Charles…"

Demelza overheard Valentine say loudly from the kitchen. He sounded upset. Not for the first time, she felt a pang of compassion for the child, living as she was with the consequences of Ross and Elizabeth's mistake. She wondered about his life in that big house with George Warleghan as a step-father. She would probably never reconcile herself fully with his birth, but she didn't wish him that life.

Stepping into Ross' bedroom, she gathered her old dress and underclothes, not relishing the thought of having to put them back on.

On the bedside table, the clock read 8:23. Her shift wouldn't start until 11:00. Taking the toothbrush, she had used the night before and the towel Ross had left her, she made her way to the ensuite bathroom.

There she put down her things next to the sink and started the shower, turning the tap at the midpoint between hot and cold, as she started unbuttoning her shirt.

Standing naked in the washroom, Demelza shivered, goosebumps appearing on her flesh, as she put up her hand to test the water temperature. The room felt cool, and she hurried to get inside the shower to warm up.

The water was almost hot enough to burn, her muscles unwinding under the spray while her thoughts turned to Ross preparing breakfast in the kitchen and Jeremy sleeping in the next room. If she wasn't standing under this modern Italian shower, so different from the claw footed bathtub at Nampara, she could almost believe that she had stepped back in time to a morning five years ago.

Demelza grabbed the bottle of mint scented soap standing there and started lathering her skin, carefully rubbing at her arms and legs, and letting the water wash away yesterday's grime.

It seemed that as long as she stayed here, at his place, her mind could not keep away from Ross.

Something had shifted between them the night before. There was a new intimacy. It wasn't much, but it was there, and she wasn't sure what to think of it.

Things were definitely over for them, but he had said that they were friends. They had not been friends in more than a decade. She was not sure if she wanted them to be.

Demelza shook her head, rinsing herself under the spray, watching the soapy water run down the shower drain. She wondered if it really was possible to be friend with your ex-husband. She had no experiences with exes, Ross being the only man she'd been with.

Except for Hugh.

She felt her stomach twist at the thought of him. Hugh had offered to stop by the store to see her today, but she'd turned him down. She knew she wouldn't be good company today, not as long as Jeremy was still feverish, but she was starting to wonder if she should have said yes. It might have been good to talk to him, not let herself get trapped in the past.

Demelza turned off the tap and stepped out of the shower, drying herself off with her towel. She allowed herself to enjoy the feeling of being fresh and clean before putting her dirty underclothes back on.

She had chosen her clothes and underthings for the way they made her look rather than for how comfortable they were, and the dress continue to feel too tight around her middle, making it difficult to breath. She would be glad to change as soon as she got home.

Demelza sighed. Hugh had barely had the time to look at her in that dress, and she had spent so much time getting ready for their date.

She had started brushing her teeth when she heard the doorbell ring, she spared a thought to wondering who it could be. It was not quite yet nine o'clock, and she could not imagine who would pop in to visit Ross this early.

Then she heard a voice coming from the hallway.

Demelza's shoulders tensed up.

Ross had said that he had Valentine for the weekend, but it hadn't occurred to her to think about who would come to pick him up.

Of course, it would be her.

Elizabeth.

Demelza cursed herself for not even entertaining the thought. She hadn't prepared herself for this. She hadn't even thought about the possibility of running into her.

After carefully avoiding the woman for the past four years, or as much as it was possible to in a city as small as Truro, here she was, in the very next room.

Demelza had seen her, here and there, walking down a street, driving by a roundabout by Redruth, or shopping for the occasional grocery, but she had always managed to avoid having to talk to her.

For a moment, Demelza contemplated staying in the bathroom until it was over. Her throat tightened.

She could sit here and wait until they left.

She rinsed her mouth in the sink, and wondered why five years after the divorce, she was still here, hiding away, while the woman who took everything from her went on with her own life as if everything was alright.

Demelza looked at herself in the mirror, in her now too fancy silk green dress without a shred of make up on. Even after a full night of sleep, there were still bags visible under her eyes, the stress of her son's illness leaving its mark on her body. Elizabeth would look beautiful. She always did.

Demelza touched her curls, trying to arrange them in a way that could pass as pretty. As a teenage girl, she had tried straightening it everyday, waking up extra early before school to get ready, not that it had ever worked. Her hair had a mind of its own and turned back into a mess of curls at the first sign of rain. It rained almost everyday in Cornwall.

She gave up on trying to fix her hair. Even if she could find a way to tame it, she would still look plain in comparison to Ross' ex. There was no hairbrush in the world that could change that.

Demelza ran a hand over her face. She was pathetic, comparing herself to Elizabeth like she was still that schoolgirl with a crush on her boss. Who cared if Elizabeth looked better? That was all in the past, there was no reason for her to still be hiding in the bathroom, no reason that she should feel ashamed. She'd moved on with her life. She wasn't that girl anymore, pinning after her own husband. She had a whole life, a life that had nothing to do with Ross or Elizabeth or their mistake. So, what was she still doing there?

Squaring her shoulders, Demelza walked to the door, reaching for its handle. There was no reason for her to hide in there. She was done running away from that woman.

She stepped out of the bathroom, her back straight with a niggling feeling in her stomach. She was not quite ready for this, but she had no desire to keep living this way.

As she made her way to the living room, she could hear them talking. Valentine sounded excited.

"…and papa said we could go with Jeje too someday."

From the hallway, Demelza could see Elizabeth kneeling down next to her son. Her back was turned as she helped the little boy into his coat, a cozy navy-blue thing made of boiled wool. Ross was standing to the side, zipping up the child bag. He had gotten dress while she was in the shower and was now wearing a pair of jeans and a faded blue shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

"Did he?" Elizabeth said, sounding slightly annoyed, but her son didn't seem to notice as he continued talking.

"Yes, he promised. And then, we're…"

Valentine went quiet, his eyes lighting up, as he spotted Demelza.

Elizabeth stood up, turning to look at her.

Just as Demelza had expected Elizabeth looked as beautiful as she usually did. Her hair was falling in perfect glossy waves around her face, her cheeks were rosy, and her whole face was glowing. If it was not for her slightly rounded stomach, it would have been impossible to tell that Elizabeth was pregnant.

"Look, that's Butto!" Valentine ran up to Demelza, holding a toy monkey in his hand. "Mama gave him to me."

Demelza took the plush toy in her hand and examined it. The monkey was covered in brown fur that felt unbelievably soft to the touch as it smiled up at her. It looked expensive, like one of those toys one bought in a "boutique" rather than a store.

Forcing a smile on her face, she said, "He looks like a very handsome monkey. You're going to take good care of him, won't you?"

"Yes." The child nodded. "You can give him a hug if you like."

The boy was looking up at her with such a serious expression that she knew she could not refuse. Keeping the smile on her face, she held the monkey close to her chest, feeling the toy's soft fur under her lips as she gave him a kiss before handing it back to Valentine. The child grinned at her, as he too held the toy to his chest and squeezed.

"Good morning Demelza," Elizabeth greeted her. Demelza took a deep breath and faced the older woman, trying to keep her expression neutral.

"Elizabeth," she answered.

"Papa, hug Butto too," Valentine walked up to his father, oblivious to the tension in the room.

Elizabeth smiled back at Demelza, but the steel in her eyes and the tension in her body contradicted her appearance of friendliness.

"How are you?" she asked in her perfect public school accent.

"Well, and yourself?" Demelza answered, and she was proud of how calm and collected she sounded.

"This little one is being a bit difficult," Elizabeth answered, rubbing her stomach. "But I'm well. This dress looks delightful on you by the way."

Elizabeth looked at her with a pointed stare, her eyes running up and down Demelza's clothes. Her smile becoming more strained, her lips tinning. Something flashed in her eyes, and Demelza knew that whatever the other woman meant by that comment, it wasn't a compliment.

"Thank you," Demelza answered with forced smile.

This scene felt all too familiar, as if her life were on repeat.

Many years ago, she had woken up in Ross' bed, just as she did today. It had been the first night she'd spent with him, her first night with any man really. She hadn't wanted to wake him that morning, preferring to let him rest.

She had slipped out of the house early, Garrick in tow, to go on a walk. The sun had been shinning brightly for an autumn morning, without any sign of rain to spoil her outing. The air had felt crisp and invigorating, and she had filled up her lungs with the sea air, her chest expanding with it. Her heart had felt as if it could burst. She had been laughing to herself like madwoman as she walked along the shores, her feet in the wet sand, the tip of her leather boots getting ruined by the salt water of the coming waves. She had not cared about her boots. She had been too giddy to care about anything. Anything but him.

All she had been able to think about was the night before, what it had felt like to be with him. It had been awkward at times. She hadn't known what she was doing, and she had been so nervous, but it had been wonderful too, wonderful to kiss him and to be kissed by him, wonderful to know the feel of his skin underneath her hands, to feel him move against her.

At that moment, she had thought that what had happened between them had been special, that it had meant something.

It had been late in the morning when she had made her way back home. She had walked into the living room to find Ross talking with Elizabeth. The other woman had been sitting primly on one of the sofa, a cup of tea in her hand. Elizabeth's eyes had widened at the sight of Demelza with her hair wild and untamed and her face pink from walking along the shore. There had been an awkward silence that no one had quite known how to bridge. Ross hadn't been able to look at either of them.

He had been cold. Elizabeth had been polite, but only on the surface. She had known with one glance in whose bed Demelza had spent the night just as she knew now.

Their lives were on repeat.

"Demelza read me a story," Valentine informed his mother, making his way back to her.

Having lost his son interest, Ross walked over to the window to look at what was happening outside, turning his back to the room. Demelza could not see his face, but she could imagine his scowl. George must have been waiting downstairs.

"She did?" Elizabeth said in a pinched tone.

"Yes." Valentine nodded several times. "There was a lot of monsters, but it was alright because they weren't bad, and the little boy played with them."

"That sounds lovely," Elizabeth answered, the words sounding sour in her mouth, as she grabbed a little red tartan cap, lying on the coffee table. "But you know, Uncle George and I brought you back some books, so we can read some new ones tonight."

"Demelza does funny voices," Valentine continued on as if his mother hadn't spoken, as the latter fixed the tartan cap on his head, her movements a little brisk.

"Next time you should ask her to sing," Ross told his son, turning back towards them. "Demelza knows many lullabies."

"How lovely," Elizabeth commented politely as she finally settled the hat over her son's ear. "I am sure that would be quite a treat. I only know a few lullabies. I am much better versed in classical music. I am lucky that Valentine is so fond of Beethoven."

Demelza had to fight not to roll her eyes at this.

"Demelza knows many old Cornish songs," Ross added, just as oblivious as Valentine to the tension growing in the room. "They are our own classics, even if most of us have forgotten them."

Elizabeth pursed her lips, a crease appearing on her forehead, but Valentine looked intrigued, his eyes growing wider as he watched Demelza from under the tip of his hat.

"Sing a song!" he demanded, his gaze not leaving hers.

"Would you please sing a song for us, Demelza," Elizabeth corrected him. "We use the magic word when asking for a favour. And I am sure that Demelza has many things to do this morning. We would not want to impose."

Valentine bowed his head, unable to meet his mother's eyes, as he twisted his stuffed toy's arms into pretzels, his little face scrunched up in displeasure.

"I want a song," the toddler insisted, grumbling under his breath. "Please."

"You probably have to get ready for work," Elizabeth addressed Demelza. "And George is waiting for us downstairs. He has a meeting this morning." She turned to her son. "I am sure, Demelza will sing to you another time."

Valentine hugged his mother' side, still frowning as he hid his face in her stomach.

"I want a song," He mumbled, the words muffled by Elizabeth' stomach.

A car honked outside. George must have been getting impatient.

Demelza bent down on her knees in front of the toddler who turned his head to take a peek at her.

"I tell you what Valentine," she told him in her most soothing voice. "Next time we see each other, I promise I'll sing you something, any song you want. Does that sound fair?"

The child took a minute to mull it over before nodding, his lips still set in a pout.

"That's kind of you," Elizabeth said to Demelza who refused to look at her. "What do we say Valentine?"

She gently nudged the child' shoulder.

"Thank you," he answered as Demelza stood up.

"Well, we really must be going." The older woman pushed her son away to move. "It was lovely to see you, Demelza."

The words rang hollow and insincere. Demelza graced the other woman with a smile just as empty. If she had her way, she and Elizabeth would never have to cross path again.

"Ross, thank you again for watching Valentine this weekend. We will try and organise something for Easter." Elizabeth put a hand on her son's back, nudging him towards Ross. "Valentine say goodbye to papa and Demelza."

The little boy walked towards his father as Ross bent down to envelop him in his arms.

"Bye bye papa." Valentine kissed Ross on the cheek.

"Goodbye Valentine." Ross ruffled his son's dark curls, grinning at him. "We will see each other soon."

Valentine nodded as he let go of Ross and moved over to Demelza.

"Bye Bye Demelza."

"Goodbye Valentine."

Elizabeth leaned down to take Valentine's luggage when Ross stopped her, lifting the bag with one hand before she could touch the handle.

"I'll take it down," he told her with a pointed look towards her stomach. Elizabeth nodded.

"Goodbye Demelza," the older woman said as she made her way to the hallway, Valentine following behind her.

"Goodbye Elizabeth," Demelza answered back, her voice cold, her contempt palpable. There was only so much pretense she could endure for the sake of courtesy.

Elizabeth's eyes widen slightly as she paused for a few seconds to observe the younger woman, obviously surprise by her breach in politeness, before she dropped her gaze and continue making her way to the door.

Demelza watched Elizabeth and Valentine disappear through the door, feeling her shoulders slump.

At least that was over. Demelza rubbed her eyes. The day was only just starting, and she was already tired.

She had not talked to Elizabeth since that day at Trenwith. The prospect of saying two words to that woman had made her stomach knot. But she had done it. It was over.

The tension in the room was gone. The air felt easier to breathe.

"Don't go anywhere," Ross called out to her from the door, Valentine's bag in his hand as he prepared to step out. "I'll be right back."

Demelza shook her head.

"I have to go get ready for work, Ross."

"You also have to eat. I will be back in a minute."

With this, Ross closed the door of his flat, and Demelza was left standing in his living room, staring at the spot he just vacated.

Outside she could hear the sound of a car door opening. Valentine was calling his mother's attention to something just as the old clock in Ross' hallway struck nine, the sound of soft bells ringing through the flat.

Demelza remained where she was standing, wondering what she should do.

Ross wanted to have breakfast with her. At least, that's what she thought he meant by his last comment.

She supposed that was something friends did. She often went out to brunch with Caroline. Caroline could not be bothered with waking up early enough to have breakfast, but she loved brunch. They must have tried every places in Truro that serve something approaching it. Not that there were many.

Demelza felt her palms getting clammy as she pushed her hair behind her ears.

She had had breakfast with Rosina and Jinny before work on a few occasions. She even had breakfast with Prudie once or twice when the woman came over to look after Jeremy.

Friends had breakfast together. That was normal.

She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling her stomach twist.

She was still not sure if they should be friends.

Perhaps this was a bad idea. Somehow without the buffer of Jeremy or Valentine, the thought of Ross cooking her breakfast felt too intimate. Maybe she should go home. She could have some toasts while she got dressed. It would be faster.

Demelza made her way to the hallway. She would get her things and tell Ross that she needed to leave as soon as he walked in.

She had just reached the coat hanger and was about to reach for her scarf, when the door opened, and Ross stepped into the flat.

"You were not going to leave, I hope." Ross raised an eyebrow as he regarded her.

Demelza felt blood rush to her cheeks, her palms becoming even clammier.

"I have to be at work in two hours," she stuttered feeling oddly guilty.

Ross nodded as he closed the door behind him, but he did not look at her as he made his way to the living room. Demelza blinked at him.

"That leaves plenty of time for breakfast," he said on his way to the kitchen. "It is most important meal of the day after all."

She followed him into the living room, absentmindedly noting that the mark of Valentine's artistic endeavor was still on the wall. Ross would need to wash that.

"You don't have to. I can just make myself some toasts at home. You don't need to cook me breakfast."

But Ross was already opening the fridge to look at its content.

"How does bacon with poached eggs sounds?" he asked, pulling the ingredients out. "You always enjoyed poached eggs. I have some crumpets too."

Demelza twisted her hands together as she watched her ex set down some butter, eggs, and bacon on the kitchen counter before reaching down towards the cupboard and pulling out a pan.

"There's no need…" Demelza approached Ross, putting her hand on his right arm to stop his movement, but he only moved over to the stove to light the fire under the pan.

"It will be ready in a minute," he told her as he began to cut a lump of butter.

"Truly, Ross…"

She pulled at the aim of her dress, rubbing her sweaty hands against the silky material.

"Demelza, it's the least I can do after everything you did last night," Ross pleaded with a gentle smile. "Please let me do this. I promise it won't make you late."

Demelza bit her lips. If she avoided the main roads where there would be traffic, she could make it to Nampara and back with time to spare. She could stay.

Maybe she was making too much out of nothing. Maybe they could be friends.

The lump of butter sizzled as Ross dropped it into the pan.

"I suppose if we ate quickly…" Demelza said, staring at his hands while he opened the pack of bacon.

Ross grinned, his back straightening.

"Go sit down." He pointed her towards the small island which separated the living room from the kitchen. "Breakfast will be served in ten minutes."

"I can cook the eggs." She opened the carton, getting ready to set to work. "I just need a bowl."

She pointed at the cupboard in front of where Ross was standing, but her ex did not move.

"Sit down," he shooed her, once again pointing at the kitchen island.

"But…"

"I can cook breakfast by myself."

Ross took out the bowl from the cupboard in front of him before grabbing the egg carton from Demelza. She moved to take it back.

"It would be no trouble," she continued to argue, trying to reach for the carton, but Ross moved away from her once again, setting down it next to the bowl.

"Sit."

Realising that there was no arguing with him this morning, Demelza shook her head, letting out a loud sigh. She walked over to the kitchen island, a small table made out of black marble to match the kitchen's ebony cabinets, and perched herself on one of the high stool to watch him cook.

It was odd to have someone cook for her. These days, it only happened when she went out to eat.

Back when they had been together, Ross had cooked from time to time, mostly breakfast, but he had prepared the occasional lunch and supper, especially when she had been pregnant, or at least when she had been pregnant with Julia. With Jeremy, things had been different. Many things had been different with Jeremy.

But that was the past. Now, Ross wanted to be a friend, one who apparently cooked her breakfast.

The smell of bacon began to fill the flat, making Demelza start to salivate. She had not realised how hungry she was. Last night, she had eaten a little as she cooked, but she had not had a full meal since her date with Hugh. And even that was barely a full meal. She had not had the time to finish her plate before she received Ross' text.

She was starving.

"Jeremy was still sleeping?" Ross asked her, breaking the silence.

"Yes." Demelza answered. "But that's a good thing. He needs the rest."

Ross nodded as he took out a poached egg out of a pot filled with boiling water, just as the crumpets jumped out of the toaster with a loud clanking sound.

"Did you feel for his fever?" He turned his head to look at her.

"He was still a bit warm, but not like last night."

Ross visibly exhaled.

"Good."

Demelza nodded, watching him breathe, his relief like an echo of her own feelings.

It would always be like this for them. They could never be like other parents, who could send their feverish child to bed and prepare for a few days of playing nurse without fretting. To them, it was not as simple as calling in sick from work and making sure their son caught up with his homework. Instead, a sick child came with a stomach-turning dread that would never go away. A fever meant something more to them both, something too painful to name.

Ross exhaled again before turning back to the stove, dropping a new egg into the pot and stirring the water. His shoulders still appeared tense, but she imagined that until Jeremy was recovered neither she nor Ross would be completely at ease.

"You'll have to watch his temperature today," she added. "But I think the worst is over."

Ross ran a hand in his hair and nodded. All they could do was wait.

"Do you want butter and preserve on your toasts?" he asked, changing the topic.

"What kind of preserve do you have?"

Ross opened his fridge to have a look, his eyes running over the bottles lined up on the door's top shelf before taking out a glass jar and reading over its label.

"I have some strawberry," he informed her, uncapping the lid to smell the content, seeming to find it satisfactory. "Here."

Ross held over the jar to her as she leaned over the counter to take it.

Demelza turned over the bottle to check the ingredients, her lips curling in disgust as she saw the sugar content.

"Oh no," she shook her head. "Too much sugar in that one. Do you have any Marmite?"

Ross wrinkled his nose as he took out the new egg from the pot.

"You mean that abomination you insist on eating?" he said, his voice dripping with disgust as he rummaged his cupboard. "Yes, as you have succeeded in convincing our son that this make for suitable breakfast food, I have had no choice but to obtain some."

Demelza rolled her eyes at him.

"Then that's what I'll have," she told him.

Ross set down a jar of Marmite in front of her, then he turned back to fill up their plates.

"I'll never understand how you can eat this," he said, handing her a plate of eggs, toast, and bacon.

Demelza did not answer him, instead focusing on their breakfast. Ross sat down on the stool next to hers, watching her as she cut a large piece of bacon and put it to her mouth.

Demelza sunk her teeth into the chunky piece of meat, letting out a little moan of satisfaction as the taste of salt and fat melted unto her tongue. She could not remember the last time she'd had bacon.

Ross grinned at her before he turned back to his own plate, cutting a poached egg in two with the side of his fork, the bright yellow egg yolk spreading over his toasts.

"Are you going to stop by after work?"

Demelza looked up at him with brows lowered in confusion. She had thought that had been obvious.

"Yes," she started. "I mean unless you think I'd be imposing."

Ross chuckled.

"I don't think you've ever imposed on anyone in your life. Jeremy would be glad to have you here, as I would."

Demelza looked down at her plate, unable to meet his eyes.

"Then I'll be there around seven if that is alright with you?"

"Brilliant." Ross set down his fork. "I forgot, would you like some tea? I also have some orange juice if you'd prefer?"

He got up from his seat, walking back to the kitchen.

"Tea would be lovely."

Ross set out to prepare the tea, filling out his electric kettle with water and dropping two bags of English Breakfast into a tea pot.

"Do you have any sugar substitute?" she asked.

He raised an eyebrow at her because of course he did not.

"I'll take some honey then."

"You know, there's nothing wrong with your weight," he began to lecture.

Demelza pursed her lips. Ross had always disagreed with the way she watched her weight.

"One of these days, the sea wind will blow you away."

"Just give me the honey, Ross."

He shrugged, passing her a mug and spoon as he went to look for the honey jar. Demelza cut another piece of bacon, thinking back to Elizabeth and her perfect figure. The woman must have been five months pregnant, and she still did not seem to have gained any weight. Demelza stabbed her meat with a little bit more force than was required.

"Bloody hell!" She heard Ross shout. She looked up to see him frowning.

"What is it?"

He held up a plastic dinosaur for her to inspect.

"Valentine hid this one next to the sugar." He slammed the toy on the counter. "I'll have to drive to Trenwith."

"You could always wait until the next time you have him."

The water in the kettle came to a loud boil as Ross ran a hand over his face.

"Is it Valentine's favourite?" she asked.

He shook his head again, passing her the honey.

"No, but we have to teach him proper boundaries," he replied, obviously repeating something Elizabeth's must have said.

"I'm sorry," Demelza told him with a grimace.

He shrugged.

"It's hardly your fault."

"No, I mean it must be hard," she said, her voice going a bit quiet.

She moved a piece of egg around her plate, watching her fork glide over the porcelain without bringing it to her lips. She felt nauseous.

Ross raised an eyebrow at her but said nothing.

"Seeing her with George," she explained.

She understood it all too much. She knew how it felt to see the one you loved with someone else, to know that someone else held their heart and shared their bed. If she had been a more vindictive person, she would have relished his pain right now, but she did not. She would never be okay with how things ended between her and Ross, yet she never really wanted him to suffer, not truly. She cared for him too much for that.

Ross shook his head as he emptied the water from the kettle into the tea pot without saying anything.

Demelza felt her stomach churn. She should have kept quiet. She did not really want to have this talk. She might not want him to suffer, but she still would rather not have to discuss Elizabeth with him. After all these years, the pain was still too raw.

Ross put down the tea pot next to her and ran a hand in his hair, as he looked at her as if trying to figure her out.

She bit on her lower lip, wondering how to change the topic. She should not have brought it up. She did not want to hear him cry over Elizabeth.

"I'm sorry," she began. "I shouldn't…"

"I won't deny that I don't much care for George's company," he interrupted her attempt at an apology, sitting down next to her once again. Her muscles tensed up. She did not want to have this talk. "And I would rather he wasn't the man raising my son." He paused there, seeming to ask for her comprehension which she easily gave him. She would not trust George with her house plant, let alone her son. "But as for Elizabeth and George being together. Well… he is certainly not the man I would have chosen for her, but she is happy." He let out a sigh. "Happier with him than she ever was with me. So no, it isn't hard."

As if to punctuate his point, Ross took a bite of his food, chewing on it vigorously before swallowing it down.

"It's not hard at all," he repeated as if this settled the matter.

Demelza blinked.

This was not the reaction she had expected. Ross and Elizabeth had been over for some time, she knew, yet she had not expected him to seem so…well to seem so calm.

He was not jumping from joy at the idea of seeing the other woman married to George Warleghan, but he did not look ready for a brawl with the man. And considering Ross' temper that was surprising.

Her ex had never been calm where Elizabeth was concerned. Even after spending four years away in Iraq, Ross had still been decimated to find her engaged to Francis on his return. At the time, he and Elizabeth had only shared a short college tryst, yet it had hurt him deeply. Now, they shared a child…

"Oh," Demelza stuttered. She did not know what else to say.

Ross stared at her for a moment, his gaze holding her captive.

She felt her heart lodge itself in her throat.

There was something in the way his eyes pierced into hers, something intense that she could not turn away from.

"I do not care who _she_ chooses to be with," he added.

This statement hung between them.

It felt meaningful, as if Ross had meant more by it then a dismissal of Elizabeth and George's relationship.

Something twisted in her stomach.

A police siren went off down the street below. Demelza turned her gaze away. The air of room felt heavy, all the cheerful camaraderie of the morning gone.

She cleared her throat.

"Do you think the tea is ready?" she asked, touching the handle of the tea pot. "Should I let it steep another minute?"

Ross continued to look at her for a moment.

She poured some milk into her cup. This did not feel like a meal between friends.

"I think it's ready," he told her, his tone light. She could almost believe that she had imagined the weight of his stare before.

"Right," she replied.

Demelza looked at the tea pot as if the object were the key to some kind of mystery, while Ross continued eating in silence.

"I hope you are ready for an evening of watching Disney movies," he finally said, breaking the silence.

This made her laugh. It was not particularly funny, yet she could not help giggling like a child. Ross had never much enjoyed the American company's "commercial drivel," as he called it.

She inhaled trying to catch her breath. This felt normal.

"I rather think you're the one that needs to prepare."

He made a face and she snorted. He could be such a snob.

"I'm sure if you're good, Jeremy will agree to watch _Watership Down_ with you," she mocked him, a smirk growing on her face as she poured them both a cup of tea.

"Now, that's a proper cartoon."

"You better not make him watch that, Ross," she warned him. That film would give their son nightmare.

"It would certainly be an improvement from this Disney rubbish."

Demelza blew on her tea, watching the steam swirl above her cup, while Ross added a spoonful of sugar to his.

"This is not too much of an inconvenience for you?" she asked. "I would have taken time off of work, but since he was with you, I didn't want to move him. If you needed to be at the office…"

Ross waved her off.

"It's not trouble. He's my son too."

"I know." She nodded, taking a small sip from her tea.

"You don't need to worry. Jeremy will spend a whole day of sleeping, watching tele, and drinking as much water as he can. And I'll call you if there is anything."

"What about Valentine?" She pointed at the plastic dinosaur still sitting by the sink.

"That can wait a few more days," Ross dismissed her worries. "Elizabeth will survive."

Demelza took a few more sips from her cup. The clock above the oven read 9:35. She needed to leave, or she'd be late.

"I have to go."

She got up from her seat, taking one last large gulp from her drink. Ross moved to follow her.

He walked her over to the door, watching as she put on her coat and fasten her buttons.

"I'll be back later tonight," she reminded him, wrapping her scarf around her neck. "Would you like me to pick you up anything?"

Ross gave her a look.

"What?" she asked.

"I don't suppose you would agree to take away some burgers and chips for the three of us?"

She wrinkled her nose. That did not sound very healthy.

"Jeremy is sick," she pointed out. "He needs something healthy."

It's not as if she was always strict about her son's diet. Jeremy was allowed sweets and the occasional trip to McDonald's, but she could be a bit more overbearing when he had a fever.

Demelza pursed her lips as she looked down at her pair of green stilettos by the door, wondering how to put them on. She could not very well sit on the floor. She should go sit on the couch, but she did not want to walk back to the living room.

Grabbing one, she lifted her left foot up in the air, wobbling dangerously on one leg.

"He needs some comfort too." Ross put his arm around her waist, trying to steady her. Without thinking, she leaned into him, one of her arm wrapping itself over his shoulders.

"It is not like he has chips everyday," Ross continued as if this was all perfectly normal. Demelza swallowed.

"That is true," she said, her voice a bit strained as she untangled herself from his arm and lowered herself down to pick up her other shoe. She avoided meeting his eyes, focusing instead on her pumps.

She got up to find Ross' arm once again wrap itself around her waist. She lifted her foot up. Her heart stuttered in her chest.

This felt nice.

This felt natural.

Her cheeks burned.

She straightened herself. Her two shoes on. She could go, but Ross was still holding her and giving her a pointed look.

"Does that mean yes?"

"What?" she asked, flustered. She couldn't remember what they had been talking about.

"The burgers and chips?"

Of course, she hadn't given him an answer.

Demelza stepped out of his arms, turning to face the door.

She must look a fool.

"Alright," she agreed, her cheeks still flushed as she opened the door. "But I won't get them from McDonald's."

She did not need to look at him to feel his smile.

"That's fine," he said, watching her step outside. "Jeremy will be happy either way."

She nodded absentmindedly, feeling ready to bolt.

"I'll see you later, Ross." She waved at him on her way to the staircase with a more casual air than she felt.

"See you tonight, Demelza," Ross said, closing the door behind him.

She nearly ran all the way down the stairs, almost breaking her neck in the process. These shoes were not meant for running.

Walking out of Ross' building, she felt her heart beat wildly in her chest.

She hurried inside her car, leaning down against her seat. She inhaled, trying to get her nerves under control, but her hands still shook as she put her key in the ignition.

She knew that she was being ridiculous. He had only put his arm around her to keep her from falling down. He was being her friend.

Her cheeks were warm despite the cold early spring weather as she drove to the next street.

He was being kind, considerate. She was being an absolute imbecile, reading too much into things.

He was her friend who wanted to make her breakfast, who made fun of her taste in toast spread, and helped her put her shoes on.

He was her friend, and they were going to spend the evening together with Jeremy, watching movies over burgers and chips like a pair of good mates.

He was her friend who was apparently truly over Elizabeth.

She stopped at a red light, watching a young couple cross the street, her heart still beating too quickly in her chest, her grip tightening on the steering wheel.

She let out a groan.

Who was she trying to fool?

They could never be friends.

A.N.: I am sorry for taking so long to update this story. It has been more than a year, and more than a month since I said I would write chapter 9 (long story short, I got sick with a cold and this messed with my schedule). Thank you to those that are still reading and thank you for all the kind reviews over this year. I hope you are all staying safe, and that you are all well.


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